Bickering Biddies

"Bill! Bill!" the frumpy brown bird snapped, shaking her already ruffled feathers. "How could you be so clueless?"

"I wasn't the one who made us late obsessing over what worm to eat and how many calories were in those red berries!" a black bird snarled back. His sharp beak opened as the acid words dripped off his tongue. "Besides, you fly so low you could practically ride on a worm!"

The brown bird gasped. "You're such a jerk!" she snarled. "At least I can see my feet! When's the last time you saw yours?"

The black bird stared at his plump middle, his face contorted in an expression of pain. I could practically see the thoughts churning in his head as he rejected them one by one.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," the brown bird griped. "We're completely lost thanks to you. Really, what kind of bird brain doesn't stop and ask for directions?"

"Margaret, I am a bird!" the black bird bellowed. "I am a creature of nature. I am a fierce being that commands the skies! I don't need directions."

"You need a brain transplant," the brown bird snapped. "What kind of moron goes south for the winter? We're supposed to be north! I could be dining on blueberries and watching a moose frolic right now. Instead, my feet are burning on asphalt and the only hotel available is a cactus."

"Maybe I just wanted to be different," the black bird argued. "Besides, we're not lost. I just took the long way."

"The cross-continental way!" the brown bird screeched. "By the time we get up north, it will be time to go south again."

"I don't need directions!" the black bird bellowed. "Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag. I'm surprised I have any brains left. You've probably eroded them with your tongue."

"Don't blame your stupidness on me," the brown bird hollered. "You know, my mother told me I should have married that bluejay. I bet if I married him I wouldn't be lost in a parking lot somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn't be hot, tired and hungry."

"Maybe you should have!" the black bird screeched. "Then he could have been pecked to death instead of me."

They glared at each other, their feathers tousled around them and their beaks gleaming in the sunlight.

"Now what?" the brown bird snapped.

"I think I recognize that cloud," the black bird said. "Let's go that way."

"Only if you ask for directions," the brown bird said. As I watched, they glared at each other in the parking lot. Then with a sigh, both birds took to the air and flapped their wings toward a large cloud. As they ascended into the air, I heard a sheepish voice say, "Whoops, guess that wasn't the right cloud after all. Maybe if we try that tree over there..."