The bad men let me feel the warm breeze, after that they carry my cage into the coal mine and hang the cage on a rusty nail that protrudes from one of the wooded support post the help hold up the walls of the cave to prevent the walls from crashing in. They put me so close to a copper plated lamps that I could smell burring oil (details)Even on a cloudy day the light from the lamp couldn’t replace the light from the sun. We’re a half mile deep inside a coal mine run by the Howison company. The warmed of the sun doesn’t reach this far down.
“Your in our world now little bird.” One of the men say. They all laugh
I’m here so they don’t die. It’s my lungs that will fill first with the methane gas that might be released as they swing their pick axes and shovels into the cave walls hopping to pull out a few more pieces of coal.
How does this all work?
You take a small vulnerable canary, place canary in a situation where methane gas fills it’s lungs until the canary can’t sing. And you have yourself an early warning system.
I die, they live
These men have names but it’s often hard to tell them apart once their faces become smeared black by coal dust.
I have a name. The men just call be “that thing.”
I had a life before this. I lives with a kind lady- she had a name too. This lady, Cassie, loved my songs but never forced me to sing. When I was done with my song she would always say “That’s a good bird.”
The same coal dust now lines my cage along with a dusting on my perch and covering the little food they feed me.
I’m still singing.
Its hard to sing in tune, my songs are thrown off, not in rhythm with their pings and slams and strikes the their metal tools against the hard rock. And the swearing. And the coughing… black lungs.
My life, there life.
Chunks of coal are piled up near me. More black dust fills the air. I’m out of breath, grasping for air,blinded. Despite this I must sing, or risks being shaken in my cage again.
That was then, this is now
If I stop my song to rest my lungs, they poke and shake my cage to make sure I’m still alive, “Come on, sing.” I muster a squawk just to appease them. As long as I make noise they seem happy. I wonder if they knew how intelligent we were they would treat us better. I have my doubts.
These men… nameless for there deeds. The took me away from Cassie. “We need the bird more then you.” They said taking me from my home. “Coal is more important then you having a pet.” She tried to save me buy these nameless things pushed her to the ground and took me away. My only comfort was hearing Cassie cry for me, least I know she was alive.
Cassie’s alive
My cage rattles… “you alive bird?” for a moment I forgot to sing, thoughts of Cassie…
I sing…
And then panic. For a moment I think I am weak from not eating. My black dust coved food sits there. Then I know. It’s somehow intuitive. A build in safety net. I can feel the first moments the poison enters my lungs. My vulnerable lungs.
The men still work unaware on anything… yet
I hate how this is how it ends. Cassie hurt and alone, myself suffering then death and the men, those faceless nameless men will survive and profit from our suffering, Cassie and myself.
Still I sing because Cassie loves it so and I want to honor her. My song grows raspy.
These men don’t notice, they don’t know yet…
This give me a comfort. And drives me to sing more. Louder and to my own ears more beautiful. I know this poison gas is filling my lungs but still I sing. Louder now, hitting notes I’ve never dreamed about. My lungs burn but they don’t know yet. They don’t know they too are breathing in the gas, and I won’t tell.
I sing with pride and love and determination.
Eventually though, the poison gas will win. I push myself harder to not give in. Their greed fuels my heart. One of the men actual whistle along with me…
He sings.
I don’t feel bad. They did this to themselves. A voluntary life imprisonment.
Finally my body can not hold back. I am, after all, just a small canary. My eyes grow heavy. My song begins to break. I wobble and fall off my perch. Still they don’t notice.
I sing… barely
My world grows dark. Stumble too. They still don’t know but they soon will.
Blackness now. I can’t sing anymore and the men, they stopped making noise too.
Silence. A faint voice now and I feel warmth for the first time since entering the cave.
A familiar voice - Cassie
“That's a good bird.”
