Once upon a time, in a remote corner of the Amazon rainforest, a baby bird was born. Its feathers were grey and scraggly-looking, but would soon become a rich shade of deep blue.
When it did, a team of people dressed in green, trained to spot this royal plumage, trapped it in a small metal cage and locked it safely. The bird didn't see much on the way to the zoo, being in the dark, dry vault next to the suitcases on the plane. It arrived, scared, lonely, but mostly confused, at the Ottergrove Zoological Garden. It was a big, noisy, smelly place, colourful and dusty. The bird was hastily named Raisin and placed in an enclosed habitat with a few other smaller birds that had nothing to do with it or its habitat: one of them was a penguin- who's idea was that?

The manager of the menagerie, Thomald Stocks, was a very impatient color-blind man who disliked anything that didn't have sharp teeth, bone-crushing jaws and strong arms. He obviously didn't care for the colorful gentle feathered creature department.

On the corner of Skeeter and Drentwood stood a yellow house with a large backyard where a brazil-nut tree grew. People lived in the house, but they aren't tremendously important for the story, although I'm sure they were very nice. If you really must know, they were called Lily and Carson and they liked eating lasagna for breakfast.

Raisin liked eating brazil-nuts for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner, but the zoo keepers had put him on a strict diet of crunchy bland bran flakes. Every morning, Carla and Gwen, the zookeepers, would push a deep platter of the brown mixture through a flimsy plastic grate next to the fake palm tree. They were quite surprised that day when a soft mass of indigo squeezed through the small opening, and disappeared behind them in a flurry of feathers. Their eyes open wide, they stared at the penguin for a while, before silently deciding that they wouldn't tell Mr. Stocks. He probably wouldn't even notice. After all, every bird looked the same through his grayscale eyes.

----

The macaw rushed through the empty staff building at great speed, found an open window and sprang out, feeling the wind in his feathers for the first time since his capture. He soared above the green trees, gaining height rapidly. To anyone looking up, he was a flying blue dot.

People pointed in awe at the small spot fluttering between the clouds. The macaw wasn't recognized as a macaw by the townspeople; it was just a flying blue speck, but that itself was the most interesting thing that had been seen in the sky for ages.
The Ottergrove Gazette was pleased: they wasted no time and started distorting the faint parrot calls and digitally applying pale smudges to the videos to mimic a spaceship of sorts.
It was the most fun they'd had in years and villagers were fighting their way to the newsstands to purchase the latest edition. This was understandable, as the paper usually bore boring headlines such as "Ottergrove Knitting Festival ahead, exclusive interviews with the contestants! "or "Scandal at the bakery: Mrs. Calloka found what in her cookie?".
The next morning, on the front page and in large characters, next to the 22nd bakery scandal and the village's book club notes, was written "Extraterrestrials in Ottergrove".

Samuel Kirkwood, following the wave of excited villagers, was headed towards the square where the Ottergrove Gazette's stand was. He grabbed a copy, opened his red leather wallet and started counting his pennies.

At that exact same moment, Raisin, unaware of the kerfuffle in the world below, landed atop a tall pine. From his perch, he could see the whole town. Most importantly, he could see a little yellow building and a big tree. After a short feather grooming, the azure creature took flight. A good description of his thought process: going to food.

Meanwhile, Sam was walking home. He lived in a tiny apartment on Drentwood avenue, in a gray brick building surrounded by cherry trees covered in cherries.
"Cherry trees" He thought as he plucked the red fruit by the stem. "Only nice in the spring and summer... The blossoms, then the cherries... After that, they just take up space..."
His inner monologue was interrupted by a feathery swoosh, and a big dark swooping figure shot above his head. He ducked to avoid collision.
"What..."
Suddenly feeling courageous, the young man picked up the newspaper that he had dropped on the pavement and hurried after the dark shape. 

Raisin extended his wings and landed with a thud. He was looking for nuts on the ground, the ones with shells already cracked open. The church bell rang 12 times, indicating the macaw's 26th hour of freedom.
Ding... Ding...
Sam crossed the street and peeked over the wooden yellow fence.
Ding... Ding...
The sun shone on the base of the giant tropical-looking tree, lighting up the blue feathers.
Ding... Ding...
Sam laughed. A bird. He was expecting a dog-sized bat or something.
Ding... Ding...
"C'mon buddy, I'm taking you back. "
Ding... Ding...
Completely oblivious, Raisin picked up a brazil-nut in his beak and started breaking it up into little pieces.
Ding... Ding...
"Uhh... Just stay here, okay?"
Hoping the bird understood English, Sam ran to the front of the house and rang the doorbell.
Ding...Dong...
The door was locked and the windows were dark. Lily and Carson were on a cruise boat, somewhere in the Canary Islands.
Sam ran back to the side of the yard and weighed his options. He could either leave the bird there and pretend he hadn't seen it, saving him the bother of carrying the heavy animal through town, or he could bring it to the zoo, where it might belong. The only thing keeping him from walking away from the whole situation was the slight probability of a reward.
Samuel wiped his hands on his jeans and, after making sure no one was watching, hoisted himself up onto the fence. Raisin turned his head ever so slightly and ruffled his feathers, before returning to his brazil-nuts.
"It's still there. Good. "
There was no reason why the macaw would leave its best source of food. The man slid down as silently as he could and his sneakers sunk into a pile of rotting vegetables and dirt.
Muttering to himself in disgust, Sam inched carefully towards the winged creature, eyeing its pointy beak and clawed toes.
"What now?"

Lily and Carson were not very nature-oriented people, although they tried their very best to be. Both born in the city, they moved to the country to "reconnect with their roots", as they liked to say.
They bought a charming yellow house with a lovely turret, a bay window and a big grassy yard with a huge tree in it.
"Don't you think it looks... Tropical?" Had said Lily while they were moving in.
"Yes... Like, big and green... With, ah, moss on its roots. Yes... Definitely exotic." Carson had managed to answer.
He'd then declared with a grin that he wanted to start a garden.
Over the next five years, the pair tried an orchard, an herb garden, a vegetable garden and many other variations that all wilted within weeks of their plantation, shrivelled to yellow stubs or rotted on their stems. Their latest attempts at nature-bonding were duck-egg farming and compost. The ducks flew away in a days time, but the compost worked, because what could possibly go wrong with dumping food residue with worms and mixing it once in a while?
All that to say that Lily and Carson kept a duck cage in their backyard. They turn out to be important for the story, finally.

Sam picked up the wooden crate, not believing his luck. It even had a little window in it, as well as a tuft of hay for the bird to sit on. His decision was made.

At that exact same moment, Carla and Gwen heard a brisk knock. It was twelve in the afternoon, and they were sweeping the staff room before leaving for their lunch break. Gwen dropped her broom and ran to the door. Her curly brown hair stuck up around her head like a lion mane and locks of it jumped up and down as she grew closer to the entrance.
The woman on the porch was standing beside a metallic cage with a very unhappy-looking (and sounding) hyacinth macaw. She was chewing gum and fluorescent orange earplugs were sticking out on either side of her head.
"Delivery for... Carla Turner?"
Gwen nodded and handed her sister's driver's licence. They looked exactly the same, so it didn't really matter who opened the door.
"Thank you for shopping at PetsCare, have a nice day!"

Sam was halfway through the square, duck-crate in hand, when he read the headline properly for the first time. "Extraterrestrials in Ottergrove".
Samuel had bought the paper by habit. Unlike most, he enjoyed following the bakery dramas and reading about the many clubs, festivals and associations. It had struck him as odd that the stand had been so busy that morning, but he hadn't given it another thought.
"No wonder", He said aloud.
The elderly lady at the stand spoke from over her book:
"Pardon me?"
"I was talking to myself, it's just... It's no wonder it was so busy here earlier... I mean, aliens!" Sam chuckled and waved his fingers in the air.
The lady smiled faintly.
"Did you see it?" She croaked.
"See what, the alien? Would've loved to."
"I did."
"Ha! What did it look like? I bet that everyone was shaking and the pictures are all blurry."
The lady went back to her book.
"It's all in the article... It looked more like a fat blue bird than anything else, but, you know, for the tourists..."
"What do you mean?"
She raised her eyebrows and answered with her nose still stuck in the dusty volume.
"I mean, that tourists love this sort of thing. Aliens." She waved her fingers like Sam had. "They'll be here in no time. The tourists, I mean, not the aliens." She giggled. Sam couldn't tell whether she was laughing at something in her book or at what she had just said.
He put the bird cage on a bench and sat next to it, unfolding the paper. The lady spoke again. Her book was closed on the counter, and her reading glasses were off.
"What's that in the box?"
"Oh, that?" He shrugged. "It's actually kind of a funny story... This bird... "
A cold wave of realization crashed onto him and he bolted upright. The macaw cawed softly.
"I... I have to go."
"But what's in the box?"
"N-nothing... Just, ah, my... Cat."
"I see" The lady frowned, put on her glasses and reopened her book. It seemed to her that feline pets didn't usually have royal blue feathers, but what did she know?
Sam picked up his bird. He had an idea.

(March 4th 2018)