Chapter 28

Most of the birds welcomed Hector and his flock. A few even said they’d like to come along. Most of the birds got along well together, but there were flocks of Black-headed Munias who absolutely refused to get along with anyone. Whenever anyone from the flock would even get near them, the entire flock of Munias would fly away. “What’s wrong with them?” Desiree asked.

“Oh never mind them,” a sandpiper said. “Munias don’t like anyone but Munias.”

“Yeah,” a Magpie Robin laughed, “and they don’t like Munias very much either.”

“They must really think they’re special,” Sidney chirped.

“Yeah,” Larry mocked, “really special.”

“I don’t see nothing all that special,” Jeff said. “they all got two wings, two beaks, and feathers just like all of us. I think they’re all just a bunch of jerks.”

“Me too,” Victor said.

“Remember,” Hector said, “those who do not understand your place have yet to fly where you have flown. This does not make them less than you, but only different.”

“But they’re the ones who won’t have anything to do with us,” Larry mocked. “It’s not our fault they...”

“Shut up!” Randy crowed. “Can’t you hear, Hector’s doing it again.”

“All feathers, though different, are feathers just the same,” Hector continued. “The job of every feather is to lift one up to heights one has never flown. Those who fly below you will someday fly as you do.”

While the relay system regularly brought messages from the flock, there was no real way to send messages to the flock. Maria found this very frustrating as she talked to Hector’s parents. “Martha, I wish Hector was here. I really miss him.”

“Oh Maria Honey,” Martha replied, “I know how you feel. I’m missing both of my sons.”

“Have you heard from Hector lately?” Ralph asked.

“The last I heard they were flying across an ocean,” Maria replied.

“But I thought they crossed the ocean weeks ago,” Martha commented.

“They did,” Maria said. “Now they’ve crossed another ocean.”

“Oh dear,” Martha replied, “I didn’t know there were so many oceans. I hate the idea of their crossing so many oceans so far from home.”

“Well you were the one who said he’d grow out of it,” Ralph said. “I tried to talk some sense into his head, but you coddled him. It’s hardly a wonder he turned out like he did. Now his brother is lost with him.”

“Do you really think they’re lost?” Maria asked.

“Well of course they’re lost,” Ralph continued. “Everyone knows the world is flat so any attempt to fly around it is bound to get one lost. Why there’s no telling where Hector and Octavo might be. They could have flown over the edge by now.”

“But they’re birds,” Martha argued. “If they fly over the edge then they can fly back.”

“How do you know?” Ralph asked. “No one’s ever flown over the edge and came back to tell it. Maybe you can’t fly back. Did you ever think about that?”

“Oh my,” Maria cried, “I hope Hector is okay. I hope he doesn’t fall off the edge of the earth.”

“Ralph, you big jerk,” Martha squawked, “you’re so insensitive. Why can’t you ever be nice? See what you’ve done? You’ve got Maria all upset. She’s going to get her feathers all wet with tears.”

“It’s not my fault Hector flew off,” Ralph said.

“No,” Martha complained, “but it is your fault Maria’s crying. Why don’t you just leave, go hunting or something?”

“I’m not hungry,” Ralph said, “Why would I want to go hunting?”

“ ‘Cause if you don’t go away I’m going to pull all your tail feathers out!” Martha shouted.

“Okay, okay,” Ralph said, “I’m gone.”

As Ralph flew away, Martha tried to comfort Maria. “I know Ralph and your father both think Hector is crazy, but something inside of me tells me he’s not.”

“Really,” Maria wept.

“Really Dear,” Martha continued, “I sometimes hear this little voice inside of me and the little voice says Hector will be just fine.”

“Hector says that is the voice of the Creator,” Maria said. “He says the voice of the Creator is inside of all of us and we should listen to it.”

“Hector is probably right,” Martha cooed as she continued to comfort the bird she hoped would be her future daughter-in-law.

And so it was, while Hector’s flock was growing with each passing day, at home few birds believed in him. That has been the way of prophets everywhere, throughout all of history. And while few birds back in Minnesota thought Hector was anything more than crazy, everywhere he went birds were calling him a prophet, the Prophet who had come from the east to show them all a better way. And while Hector had his doubts, he was beginning to realize that perhaps this trip was about more than just proving that the world was round, and proving that an old parrot wasn’t crazy.