Joshua Malbin307 12

St. Apt 8Brooklyn NY 11215

1Great TitsIn the spring of his second year, Peter split from the mixed flock of tits and sparrowsin whose company he’d survived the winter, and returned to a wood not far from wherehe’d fledged. For a couple of days he tried out his song, two notes and two syllables, thesecond lower than the first and slurring at the end, something like his own name: “Pe-ter!Pe-ter!”But he’d arrived too late. Anywhere he tried to perch and sing, another male showedup at once to let him know unequivocally that the territory was taken. He’d never foughtbefore and the other males were vicious, raining sharp beak-blows on his glossy black head and yellow throat.So he stopped singing and the other males left him alone. He did slip once—whenhe saw a particularly beautiful female, was overcome with desire, and let loose a few of the notes that strained for freedom in his tiny breast—but the nearest dominant maleappeared and attacked him mercilessly, not even relenting when Peter tried to flee. Onlywhen he’d given Peter a shallow cut on the left side of his neck did he seem to feel he’dpunished Peter enough and fly away. After that Peter managed to control himself andstay quiet.That female mated with that male and they started to build a nest. The othersurrounding territorial males attracted mates too. Peter kept his head down and fedacross an area straddling territories, border areas rarely patrolled by the dominant birds.There was a fine empty woodpecker hole right in the middle of that area, unclaimed, buthe didn’t try to attract a female to it.One morning as he foraged in the crown of an oak tree he bumped into a plainfemale he hadn’t seen before. That in itself was no great surprise. Other tits wandered inand out of the established breeding territories often. He was surprised, though, when sheflirted with him, though he hadn’t sung to her.

Joshua Malbin307 12

St. Apt 8Brooklyn NY 11215

2“You’re in good shape,” she said. “You must eat a lot.”“I mustn’t sing,” Peter told her.“I know,” she said. “We have to keep it secret. And secretly you should take me toyour place.”Peter hopped into the air and headed for that woodpecker hole, pausing and lookingback every ten yards to make sure she followed. He flew into the hole to show it to her,came back out again at once and perched nearby, watching. She flew in and he saw herwings fluttering at the opening as she turned this way and that, inspecting. It filled himwith lust.She reemerged and flew up to his perch. “Okay,” she said and, beating their wingsfrantically for balance, they accomplished the awkward task of lining up their cloacae.He ejaculated into her.Her name was Elena. They mated a few more times to make sure.He didn’t think he’d have liked her if he’d had any choice in the matter. In manyways she was ugly: the streak down the center of her breast was broad like a male’s, herleft foot didn’t open or grip properly, and she had little fat on her to spare. But in fact he

wasn’t

in a position to be choosy. Elena was a few years older than him, in the prime of her breeding life, and if she were fitter and prettier he’d have had no chance, not withouta territory of his own.Sometimes, though, he saw the dominant pairs nearby feeding together or gatheringnest materials and wished he had a mating relationship as forthrightly loving as theirs.Meanwhile he and Elena had to build their own nest. They carried in beakfuls of moss first and Elena showed him how to pile it against the walls of the burrow to make ashallow cup. This they followed with fine, dry grass, and down collected among thegooseturds of a nearby lake.The very day they finished she crouched inside the nest, only the nape of her neck visible outside. She stayed that way, quiet, for some time, and then whistled for him andedged aside so he could look in and see the egg: it was the size of a large beetle or smallacorn, white with purple spots. The next morning she told him she’d laid another andhe’d better go get her something to eat. In the afternoon she reported another, and then

Joshua Malbin307 12

St. Apt 8Brooklyn NY 11215

3one a day for the next three days. Six eggs in all. He didn’t get to see them after the first;his job was to fetch Elena tasty insects while she sat.This was easy enough at first. The dominant males nearby still sang most of the timeto defend their territories from each other, which made it simple to steer clear. And hedidn’t see any females at all—probably, since he and Elena had gotten a late start on thebreeding season, they were already incubating their own eggs. He could forage amongthe leaves and not be hassled. He relaxed into the routine of feeding himself and feedingElena as if it would last. When he passed her an insect larva and she thanked him, he felta warm sense of satisfaction, and if those days had gone on, it would have been fine withhim.Ten days along, while hunting in the crown of a tree he came on the pretty, haughtyfemale who’d excited him to song earlier in the spring. She didn’t remember him andobviously distrusted him now. “Where are you taking that?” she demanded.Peter, who’d been about to take off with an inchworm for Elena, paused instead onthe twig where he’d found it. If he flew away with it, the female would know he had anest somewhere on her territory, and he couldn’t answer with his mouth full. So whilehe’d already eaten three, he forced himself to swallow this one too. “Nowhere,” he said.“You’d better not be,” said the female. “These are

our

trees, Mark and me, and thebugs in them are for

our

chicks.”He didn’t argue, though he thought she was being needlessly selfish. The trees werefull of little caterpillars just then; they must have all just hatched. He flew into a differentterritory and found another easily. When he returned to Elena and gave it to her, sheturned her neck toward him affectionately, all warm and loving, and that triggered someinstinct in him that made him love her too. At the same moment, though, he couldn’thelp superimposing the image of that other female onto Elena and wishing he were inlove with her instead, though she reviled him.Soon their eggs hatched and Elena ate the empty shells. When she flew off to foragePeter gazed into the nest and down at the bottom, in the dark, he could just make out littlefeatherless balls struggling to right themselves. He loved them too, his babies.