The fledgling travels light. One piece of checked luggage, one carry-on, one personal item that can be stowed beneath the seat. All it takes is a puff of the chest, a flap of the wings and a leap.
Leaving the parent birds alone in their nest.
It's a sturdy home. They've spent years dragging in twigs and stuffing the gaps, making it warm, stable and snug. Now, as the birdlets gather their laundry, earbuds and courage, the rooms seem strangely roomy.
The big birds puff their chests, flap their wings and take their own leap. Maybe they can pull the twigs in tighter, settle down, pair up. They start with a nest of noodles. It's warmed with pepper, snug in sauce and just enough for two.
