The Empress Bird

I shall be needing a fine nest that befits an Empress of Birds, said the Empress Bird to her partner the King of Birds.

Plenty of room to flap in hot weather and plenty of egg room.

Of course, said the King, I shall go and gather the finest twigs. He prepared to take flight.

I was thinking, called the Empress, that this year we could really push the boat out and surpass any nest ever dreamed.

I see, said the King, refolding his wings, I shall need some guidance if the finest twigs are not sufficiently regal. Are we talking golden taps and silken hangings with frills and spills all over?

No, I had in mind a great builded structure to last the ages through the generations. One that could be relined with this year’s fashion in cushioned delicacy and high-quality accessories. Still positioned high in a tree, of course, or rocky outcrop, for safety’s sake. I shall be laying the three royal eggs next week, so you better hop to it.

Right you are, said the King. He offered, a bread bin, a granite drinking trough, a disposable coffee cup, the dent in a car bonnet, a cast iron bath, she was tempted, a washing up bowl, a Texans hat, upside down of course.

None of these are it, she Empress withhold her affection. I want Wow Factor, wood panelling with cross benches for guests, cup holsters, one of those devices that clip onto your o phone for hands free communication and a galley for rustling up cold drinks and snacks. Are you getting a vision? There should be a large clock showing the season, with phases of the moon and a temperature gauge.

I am, said the he bird, getting a vision of something, I think I saw its like way down by the ocean side. I shall reconnoitre, it may take some heavy lifting gear to get it to the tree though.

He found it there bobbing by the quay side and bargained a fair price from its owner, Will Stout, who was a fisher of fish. His real name was Guillaume, he had lost his mother at a very young age, it still hurt, Will for short then. In the Cave of Tempests, round the back of the DIY store, the King of Birds made offered to an unemployed Tornado that it could not refuse.

The Tornado sallied forth and built its strength over the warm waters of the bay before whipping up the surf and swallowing the boat, and numerous fish hiding there under. The Tornado carried the precious cargo inland, guided by the King of Birds. En route destroying several cow sheds and bringing down two quite lovely trees. Eventually the Tornado deposited the boat in the great olive tree at the centre of the clearing. The fish fell about laughing. For a short time, then fell silent.

The Empress was impressed. Now all we need are some sumptuous decorations and a chandelier. Could you guild the lilies and plump up the backrests?

But the King Bird had gone.