The Blackbird Show

Madrid, Spain

A concrete planter next to the subway is no decent home compared to the coniferous forest, the blackbird’s natural habitat. But these are the kind of situations you have to deal with when you grow up in a city like Madrid, where housing price is absolutely nuts.

March is the month in which these birds begin to sing their melodies: “do, do, do, re, mi, fa”, considered one of the most beautiful ones in the word. I mean, even the Beatles have a song about them, that’s how used they are to standing ovations. But this blackbird’s first recital ended with something very unusual: absolutely nothing happened. Not a single person came by to listen to his lovely song, and despite his efforts, the same exact thing happened the next day. Even though this little bird is solitary by nature, realising how lonely he was made him extremely sad.

The sky must have been watching and was willing to add a little drama to the story, because it snowed in plain April. As the first flakes fell on his beak he desperately flew away from his small planter and among the intricate buildings of Ciudad Jardín to find a better refuge. It was around eight o’clock, when he finally found a small wooden box inside a tunnel – the perfect refuge to hide from the cold. Oh, it felt so good, it reminded him of his childhood nest and the soothing song his mother used to sing. The blackbird got so carried away by these memories, he started singing again, but this time for himself.

At first it was very subtle, but in a matter of seconds the whole street was full of people leaning out of their windows and clapping. Surprised by this sudden burst of appreciation, the Blackbird sang all the songs he remembered making the audience go mad. Some even brought out saucepans to show their excitement. He was so happy, it was like his life mission was finally achieved.

It was so that the Blackbird spent the following months singing at dawn, only a few minutes before eight. And people would never fail to show their appreciation thought the windows. Finally, after all those sad days, everything in his life made perfect sense.

* * *

Epilogue.

Blackbirds sing from March to June so it is very probable people will go back to the streets before this little fella finds out the truth.

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