The migration from Brazil to Doolittle Island lasted three days. This trip, however, had postponed the couple's vacation by a week. Between the layover in Louisiana and Greycee's slower-than-usual aeronautics, Bobbit needed to release some steam.
"Greycee, we must hurry or we'll never find room in the White Palace," he twittered. "All the elite fowl will be vying for space there. It's imperative we land in a fastidious manner before the roosting begins."
"I know-w-w...I'm flapping as fast as I can. I think I've even lost all my feathers! Am I naked yet?"
Bobbit lowered his head and sighed.
"I'm sorry. It's just...I've been waiting an entire year to stay there, and I'm so hopeful we get a room overlooking Lake Murray. The advertisement claims the compartments are 72% larger than that ol' place we stayed at last year. What was the name of it?"
Spying a cicada, Greycee chose to ignore Bobbit's comments and instead made a spiral plunge to seize the delicacy for another en-route snack.
"Stop that!" Bobbit warned as she caught back up with him. "If you don't stop eating, we'll never make it! Notice how I'm disciplining myself to bypass all the tempting insects. Have you seen me partake of one mosquito? I even skipped the dragonfly and Japanese beetle, and you know how much I love them!"
"I'm sorry, love, I'm just so-o-o-o hungry since it's egg-laying time." Greycee vocalized a harmonious bubbling chirp hoping to appease her upset spouse. "The MartinDell..."
"We stayed at the MartinDell Motel last year."
"Oh yeah...the MartinDell," he mocked as amusement warbled in his throat. "It was not swell...Whoa! Hang tight, love...I believe I see Doolittle! Look-over to the east of the great city! See the water?" He pointed his wing tip to direct her beady eyes to their destination.
"Yes-s-s..." she shrilled. "There's the sanctuary...Oh, thank goodness!"
The couple seemed to break the sound barrier as they darted through the heavy air traffic while demonstrating great agility in evading collisions with other fowl.
As they soared over the White Palace, the vastness of the seven-tiered complex captivated them. Each section displayed cedar decks, predator guard walls, and a cross-ventilation roof system, which Bobbit knew would provide just the right amount of air conditioning from the sweltering sun.
Greycee, on the other hand, remained enamored with the detailed landscaping. As she observed the green pastures adorned with foxglove and daisies, her imagination and appetite began to yearn for the insects hiding amongst the greenery. Lake Murray's bluish-green waters bordered the field, causing both birds to whistle in unison as they became enraptured with its beauty.
"Bobbit, I think I'll just sun myself while you check us in. Lord knows, I need to preen," she chattered as she nibbled and stroked her feathers.
She had just begun to reposition and oil her feathers when Bobbit reappeared with a sour disposition.
"It's full! There's no room! And what's worse - the manager says all the hotels are full on the island."
"What? Oh no-o-o-o, honey! Why?" Greycee asked.
"Evidently, there's several conventions taking place - of course, we knew about the annual Martin Mosquitofest, and...then there was another one...uh...the Bluebird Mealworm Midnight Madness."
"Oh, whatever will we do? I can't take flight...it's time for laying!" Greycee fretted as she fluffed her downy and scratched the soft ground with her talons. Bobbit noticing her anxious mannerisms made a suggestion.
"Okay, there's no reason to worry. Think back over the trip. What did God do for us there in the gulf as the storm passed through?"
"Well...He hid us in the cleft of the rock."
"That's right! And doesn't He always provide for us? Of course, He does. So, let's leave the worrying to the humans. They tend to fret over everything!"
Silence filled the air as the couple considered logical reasons.
Bobbit interrupted the pondering. "I think sometimes they just don't trust Him completely. They try to be in control of every aspect of their lives, and when that control is gone, they agonize."
Smiling at his egg-spectant wife, Bobbit pecked Greycee on the beak and said, "Let's go!"
"Where?" she asked.
"Well..." he whimpered, "the MartinDell has vacancies.
"Oh Bobbit, take your own advice and don't worry. Anyway, remember, they have those delicious balloon spider biscuits!"
"Mmmmhmmm...my beak's watering already..."
Based on Matthew 6:26
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