A Little Bird’s Hatching Day

Macaw’s hatching day had been, in a word, busy.

The oviraptors had only recently made their way out of Atlantis, and seen the surface for the first time in years. The adults in the flock were always running around, scouting new territory, spreading seeds, attempting to make peace with the locals.

And there was, of course, the nest. Macaw’s nest.

Hummingbird herself had only hatched about a week prior, so she was still in the dependent stage herself, but everyone was giving this nest special attention. It was the first clutch in generations to be laid on the surface.

Hummingbird watched the grown-ups fret over it. It was a small, delicate clutch, and everything about the surface was a reason to worry. It was much less humid in these urban areas than the jungles of Atlantis, for instance. And there were more predators.

She did her part by cycling out fresh bedding every few hours. She had no idea if it was really helping anything, but it seemed to ease everyone’s nerves a little when they saw her working. And with so many things to worry about, it gave them time to move out from their nest and chart the land.

So it wasn’t uncommon for Hummingbird to be left on her own with the eggs. There were others nearby to keep watch, of course, but she was the one left to tend to them. It was a lot of pressure for someone who was hardly more than an egg herself. And on that particular day, she had her work cut out for her.

It all started with a telltale chirping. It was a sound instinctively ingrained into her: the cheeping of eggs that were ready to hatch.

Her feathers stood up straight as she tried to remember what to do. They probably wouldn’t need any help hatching, right? Hatchlings could usually get out of their eggs on their own. But maybe she should find someone, just in case? But then she’d be leaving them all alone, and it was definitely a bad idea to leave a bunch of baby oviraptors by themselves. They could wander off anywhere, and then they’d never be able to find them!

In her mental scrambling, two of the three eggs managed to hatch all on their own. Two beautiful, spiky oviraptors were brought into the world, wet and slimy. Hummingbird understood enough to stay near them, clean them off, and talk to them so they could begin learning as soon as possible.

That left one egg unhatched. It didn’t make a single chirp. Sad, but there wasn’t anything Hummingbird could do (though that didn’t keep her from feeling guilty).

The two hatchlings were up and walking after a few minutes, which was good sign. Hummingbird tried to straighten out her feathers while they tumbled around near the nest. It was hard to focus while still keeping an eye on them. There was always so much going on…

She jumped a foot in the air when she felt something bump against her flank.

Luckily, she hadn’t screamed, or it would have sent everyone into a panic. When she regained her composure, she realized that it had been the remaining egg that thumped her. She hadn’t moved it out of the nest; she didn’t trust herself to, it felt like something only an adult should do. But wasn’t it strange that the dead egg had moved?

Hummingbird gave the egg an experimental nudge.

And it jumped in response.

It wasn’t a dead egg! There was a baby in there!

Hummingbird had nearly doomed the poor thing to being tossed out, so this time, she didn’t hesitate. She was sure it was already sore from being cooped up longer than it should have. She dug in her beak and pulled away chips of eggshell, giving the hatchling inside a helping hand on making its escape.

A little black beak peeked out from inside. The third hatchling clambered out, looking no worse for wear despite being trapped in the egg for longer than his siblings, and being unable to break out on his own. He shook himself off and sat down to scratch an itch on the back of his head.

In Hummingbird’s opinion, he was much too calm after the heart attack he’d given her. But that wasn’t something she should complain about.

Like his siblings, she helped to clean off all of the egg goo and get him on his feet. But she couldn’t help but notice that throughout all of it, he never made a sound. Didn’t squeal when she bit down too hard while she preened him, didn’t trill when she spoke to him… nothing. And he hadn’t called from within the egg, either.

And he was, of course, oblivious to the questions he was raising, and soon he’d jumped out of the nest to play with his siblings, almost immediately playing too roughly and forcing Hummingbird to intervene.

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Naming hatchlings was a group effort in the flock. The adults knew how to make a “proper” name, so they had the final say, but they let the hatchlings get their ideas in first. Hummingbird had come up with her name herself; she’d seen one of her namesake floating around a large flower. It was green and pink, like her, so that was what she wanted to call herself. The adults had no problem with it, so “Hummingbird” she became.

The new clutch went through the usual process. The older two had their names chosen after a bit of debate, then there was only the youngest left. He didn’t have any suggestions himself, verbal or mimed, so the adults had to bat around their own ideas.

“He has those pretty bands on this legs…”

“Legwarmers?”

“We cannot call him Legwarmers.”

He also didn’t want to be called Legwarmers. In fact, he didn’t like any of the names on offer, vigorously shaking his head at every suggestion.

“Um,” Hummingbird said from the outer edge of the circle, “what about Macaw? For the markings on his face…”

The adults went quiet. They all stared at her. It made Hummingbird want to crawl back into her eggshell and never show her face again.

But, in the middle of the gathering, the mute hatchling was hopping up and down, a huge smile on his face.

And that was how he was named “Macaw.”