Little Petter's Friend

Jens Trondsen rocked slowly back and forth in his chair on the side porch of his house. It was a beautiful spring day and the house was empty–Jens' wife Margaret and their two girls were at a play date at a friends' house. Right now it was just him and his cup of tea and his bag of peanuts, and the sounds of the birds in the trees.

And the empty porch swing that little Petter had loved so much.

Jens remembered swinging him back and forth for hours on spring days just like this one. Had it already been a year?

A strange little black bird alighted not far from his rocking chair, cocked its head, and made one small hop towards him.

"Hey there," said Jens.

"Hi!" said the bird.

Jens was taken aback.

"Hi!" said the bird. "Hi! Hi! Hi!"

It followed this up with a few notes of birdsong, completing the performance with a very convincing rendition of a car engine turning over.

It must be one of those birds that can mimic anything it hears, thought Jens. I wonder what kind it is.

"Do you want a peanut?" said Jens, holding one out to the bird.

"Do you want a peanut?" said the bird, as if in reply.

Jens marveled at how human like the bird's speech was. This one's really good. It sounds just like a real person.

"Do you want a peanut?" repeated the bird, in the same familiar human voice. Jens gave the bird a peanut.

"I like peanuts," said the bird, followed by a very convincing giggling sound. If Jens didn't know better, the bird sounded exactly like a young boy.

Wait.

"I like peanuts," said the bird, and made the giggling sound again. "Do you want a peanut? Do you want a peanut?"

It can't be. I'm hearing things. This isn't real, thought Jens.

"Will you be my friend?" said the bird.

There was no denying it. The bird was talking to him in little Petter's voice.

"Will you be my friend? I like peanuts. Do you want a peanut?" said the bird.

Jens carefully reached for a peanut and fed it to the bird, which cheerfully swallowed it. With his other hand Jens reached ever so gently into his pocket for his phone, placed it gently on his lap, and hit record.

"You're a pretty bird," said the bird. "This is my house. My pappa's working right now."

Did little Petter talk to this bird? Did it visit him last spring? Before everything happened?

"I'm going to be Hiccup for Halloween," said the bird. "I'm going to be Hiccup. Do you want a peanut? Do you want a peanut?"

Jens continued to feed the bird. I can't believe it. Little Petter must have fed it peanuts and talked to it all afternoon. And it remembered, and came back again this year.

"Do you want a peanut?"

He fed the bird.

Please don't go. He didn't dare say it out loud. Please don't go.

"Don't go! Don't go!" said the bird, in little Petter's voice.

Jens reached for another peanut only to find the bag was empty. The bird cocked its head, then hopped back a step.

"Please don't go," whispered Jens.

"Don't go! Don't go!" said the bird.

It alighted on a nearby tree on a low branch, paused for a moment, then said, in little Petter's clear, small voice:

"Stay and be my friend! Stay and be my friend!"

Then it flew away.