Bruny Youth Story Prize

As the fairy-wren flitted through the trees, he watched all the life on the island. He noticed how everything worked in perfect tandem, like theatre. 
Flit, flit. Flit, flit. 
“So why do these silly humans make everything so complicated?” he pondered. He sighed inwardly as he dive-bombed a grub he spotted on the soil. 
“All there is to it,” he thought as he crunched through the grubs’ exoskeleton to the juicy insides of which he relished, “is to eat, drink and sleep.” And as an afterthought he added, “And squeeze as much joy and mirth in between." 
He finished his snack and flew upwards. 
Flit, flit. Flit, flit. 
He did not have a name. Wrens do not need names. 
He tweeted a call - for all it was worth, it was mating season. No one replied. He sighed again. There were so few of his kind left. Sometimes he thought that he was the only superb fairy-wren in existence. 
He dashed through the underbrush and then flung himself high into the sky and let the sun's heat bathe him as he fell in freefall to the earth below. He spread his wings to catch the air and sped by a dazzled photographer who snapped a shot just as he passed. (That picture would earn millions later, but why does that matter to a bird?) 
There was low rumbling in the distance as motor cars sped along. He fluttered towards the island’s human town. The wren only came to observe the humans do their strange things in their strange towns. He also came for the free food in the form of crumbs. 
Flit, flit. Flit, flit. 
The fairy-wren dashed into the city, sweeping past the stone buildings. He wondered why they lived in a place like this and not amongst nature, as all things ultimately should. The humans shambled along the street and exchanged money to others for food and goods. 
People gasped at the wren’s bright, beautiful plumage as he perched on the peak of a fountain. “They waste so much good food!” He thought disgustedly as he peered at a human sitting on a bench, dropping pastry crumbs all over the place. He waited for the mindless human to get up and go before flitting down. 
Flit, flit. Flit, flit. 
He landed on the concrete sidewalk under the bench. 
“Mmhh, mmh,” he thought as he gobbled the delicious crumbs. “At least humans get at least one thing right!” 
It was getting late. A human would say, “It’s at least 7:00 PM - I should be going home,” but a bird would reply, “That's jumbo, I just go home when it gets dark.” 
The fairy-wren flew home and thought one last thought before sleeping in the dense shrubbery that made his home. 
“Maybe we should all just flit through life and enjoy it as it is, humans especially.” He smiled to himself faintly as sleep took him. 
And that is one lesson, amongst many, worth learning. 
Flit, flit. Flit, flit.
 

Winners of the Bruny Youth Story Prize will be announced at The Bruny Island Bird Festival on Sunday, the 22nd of March at 12 pm in the Adventure Bay hall. This prize is proudly brought to you by The Bruny Kids and Nature Project, led by Claire Boost and the Tasmanian Community Fund.