Having read a biography of Leonardo Da Vinci, and interested in a side-by-side exploration of history and fiction, Jonathan wrote this short story about marsh tern innovations in bug-catching, unwittingly inspired from the master’s ‘greasy hands’.

 

Marsh Tern

 

It was a fine day in the Pontine Marshes while the fresh cool spring air of 1467 blew into Lionel’s soft groomed feathers. He attentively watched around him for a sign of a delicious snack of a dragonfly. He slowly decreased his speed, landed professionally on a soggy piece of land, and crushed a few pieces of tall, wild grass. The orchestra of insects sang their song, like the rooster crow of the marsh, starting the day. A flutter of delicate wings caught Lionel’s eye as he saw what could be today’s breakfast. He gave the dragonfly one menacing look, and up he went, greedily flapping his wings.

His hopes were let down when a sharp pain shot throughout his wings and he was sent down, plummeting into the water. Lionel ended up with a face full of muddy marsh water as he crashed into the coldness. A croak was heard and a bright green frog landed on his head, sending him for another round of filthy water.  After Lionel had recovered from the usual and dizzy crash, he flew back into the air wondering what to do since it was still the early sunny morning.  Why can’t I catch even a single dragonfly? The temperature had drastically risen, and boy, was Lionel feeling warm. It’s so hot I could go take a cool-down in the river, he thought.        The answer to catch the bugs came quite easily!  He couldn’t believe it, that moron Leonardo Da Vinci had helped him!  On his last birthday, a beautiful sunny day, he had been circling in a new neighborhood when all of a sudden a pair of greasy hands had grabbed him by his wings and had almost strangled him to death. When he saw the thing’s face, he recognized it. Suddenly, it came to him; he had seen that face on a torn magazine in the lake: his name was Leonardo Da Vinci. Luckily a gust of wind blew him out of Da Vinci’s grasp, freeing him from the evil man. From then on, Lionel had sharp pains in his wing like the one this morning. It had never cured, but now and then it would go a couple days without hurting.  However, if Da Vinci hadn’t grabbed Lionel, the wind storm wouldn’t have blown him away and he wouldn’t have thought of the cause and sheer power of the windstorm and … the answer was air!

He quickly flew to his best friend Henry’s house, an artistic formal nest made out of light and hard twigs, built to comfort. It was a huge nest, made out of fine long branches and it had taken just two weeks to build.

A small rustling sound announced his arrival while he landed onto the uneven layered sticks of the living room.  A small group of birds sitting down on a pile of leaves made quick, light chirps, discussing the plans for the 3rd floor of Henry’s house. The birds looked up, finally realizing Lionel’s presence.

“I thought you were catching dragonflies – do you want to help us with Henry’s 3rd floor?” Summit asked.

“Guys, can you help me?” he asked in a hopeful voice.

“Depends on what you what us to do,” Ben, Lionel’s cousin, remarked.

“You know how I have problems catching bugs, right?  Well, I have a plan to catch a lot of them each day. This is going to be even bigger than the plan to pick out small parts of Leonardo Da Vinci’s flying machine’s wings in revenge for his trying to capture me that day.” For Lionel still had nightmares about that shocking event. He leaned over to them and gave a quick informative brief, and off they went for a new adventure.

“But we get some of the bugs, right?” his friends made sure.

“Of course.” As they flew toward the location where Lionel had fallen, Lionel’s cheeks flashed a bright salmon pink as he remembered what had happened, unknown to the other birds. I’m so lucky they didn’t see what had happened, because I would have to tell them about my injury, Lionel thought.

They all gathered in a straight line, hovering each at different heights. They slowed down, making sure their movements were uniform so that they became one.

On the count of three they created a large wave of air by flapping their wings. A large group of dragonflies were blown onto the ground, unable to move. Summit and Ben swooped down, light and agile like eagles, slicing the bugs dead so they could not escape. Henry gracefully glided toward a lonely short tree, and grabbed stems of some sticky berries, and dropped them on the dragonflies. The flies were then covered with the filling, unable to move. John the nimble smart bird, Chase the playful bird, and Sean the muscle bird went to the river, took a piece of battered drift wood, placed the goo-covered dragonflies onto the wood, and let it drift toward home, flying alongside with it.

Everyone praised Lionel with enthusiasm and had a giant celebration. Lionel had become the underdog to the top dog in a few seconds. It showed how great ideas can be inspired from ordinary things like air. From then on Henry, Ben, Summit, John, Chase, Sean, and Lionel, went to the marsh and did what they did every day: catch insects. There were eventually thousands of birds who heard about the technique, and birds still use it today.