Dragons

A Flock of Small Birds

A flock of small birds alights to feed quaint, thought I Dragons, thought the ant

It’s a matter of relative size, and of point of view.

Take on the ant for a moment, wrestle yourself into that small, tight-fitting coat. You’re busy doing whatever ants do in fields of grass, leaves towering around and above you like redwoods for us humans. Busy skirting around these mammoth grass-trees, collecting building material, food, or perhaps just sight-seeing. Take your pick. You do what ants do.

Suddenly, there’s a shadow. Many shadows. Growing. Growing shadows just ahead of where you stand. Ominous. You swivel your and-head and look up with your many ant-eyes. And see: these monster birds about one thousand times your size (at least by weight) and they are coming for you, or could be coming for you: there’s no way of telling yet.

There is nowhere to hide. Not really. Nothing to scurry under. They have really great eyes these dragons, you’ve been told. They’ll spot you among the blades clear as anything.

Do these particular dragons feed on ants? you wonder. Hoping every so much they don’t.

And now they land. The closest one about three feet or so away from you. It does not turn to size you up as tiny meal; no, it has eyes only for a much larger meal: an earthworm, now busy scampering (if an earthworm indeed scampers) back into dark earth and safety. Too late.

The feathered enormity with a beak twice the size of your entire body has got a firm and deadly grip on the tail end of the escaping earth worm: not so fast, worm.

The worm does not listen, it is digging itself down into earth for its very life. The dragon is not letting go, however, and plants two splaying trunk-sized legs wide apart to find a better purchase: and pulls, and pulls.

And pulls.

More and more of the earthworm is rising from the ground as the dragon pulls and pulls, and suddenly, there’s nothing for it, the worm loses its hold on Mother Earth and the dragon springs back, surprised almost, but still with a firm grip on this substantial meal.

Suddenly, there are two more dragons, both pecking at dragon number one to make it yield its hold on the delicious worm, but it doesn’t.

A dragon fight is about to break out, you can tell. While you really should scramble away now for safety, you’re too fascinated to leave this amazing front-row seat to the imminent dragon fight.

It’s short-lived though. Dragon number one will have none of this and almost explodes up into the air, heading for the edge of the field and the forest beyond. Dragons two and three take a short-lived pursuit but soon return, empty-beaked.

None of these monsters have seen you yet, and finally you come to your sense and slip away out of grounded bird sight.

Meanwhile, the human I am sees this flock of sparrows or larks or whatever they are, land in the field like a thinly woven, shimmering blanket wafting down upon the grass. I don’t see the ant, of course.

But I think, how beautiful, how quaint. Then I think, I wonder how an ant would view these birds: as dragons? as monsters?

Then I think that if you’re given to worrying about the relative size of all things, you’ll never stop worrying; that’s what I thought next.

© Wolfstuff