It was a beautiful day out. The sun, bright hovered above with a few clouds floating past the glow. Laughter could be heard on the gentle breeze as Indian Paint giggled, trotting around the trunk of a nearby tree. “That’s it. Stretch your wings out,” she cooed as she gazed softly up to the nest of a couple birds that had recently hatched. The little bids afraid and timid as they slowly stretched their talons out. Indian Paint laughed softly with excitement, nodding her head in approval as the little ones looked to her for guidance. “That’s it, that’s it!” she beamed and opened her own wings. “You feel that? The wind is calling to you,” she smiled as her wings relaxed with the light breeze. The birds chirped, standing on the nest’s edge as they allowed their tiny wings to move with the gentle breeze. “Now take the skies! Flap them, gentle…don’t fight against the wind,” Indian Paint told them. A bit hesitant, the first one began to beat its tiny wings up and down forcefully. “Gently,” Indian Paint reminded them with a smile. “It’s a dance,” she said nodding her head for the hatchling to continue. It softened the beating of its wings and began to lift itself from the nest. “That’s it—just like that!” Indian Paint’s smile blossomed as the others began to hover as well. She tucked in her wings then motioned for them to follow. “Come on now! Don’t be afraid!” she began to trot away from the tree. The hatchlings looked to one another with scared expressions, but as soon as one left the nest the others began to follow. Indian Paint laughed in delight as they began to follow her. Sure, they weren’t perfect by they were flying! “Perfect!” her eyes began to light up as she trotted a bit faster with them following. They sure were quick! Indian Paint opened her wings, running faster, and would ever so often kick from the ground and glide a short distance. The baby birds chirped, following her as they glided and unsteadily flew towards a nearby hill. It was there that Indian Paint stopped and the birds circled around her before being greeted by their Mother, where she took them back to the nest. “Goodbye,” Indian Paint breathed and smiled as she watched them fly away in the distance.
