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Parrothead could never stand the cold.
Perhaps it was part of her acha nature, her body unaccustomed to the slight chill of the swamp. The sight of frost on grass in the early morning was spectacular, but not worth the shivers that came with it. Then there was the rush to store food, the agitation and hurriedness from other, less laid-back kin. Winter came in and disrupted her time, her rest, her relaxation. And with everyone hiding from the cold, there was less fun to go around, less songs to be sung. Every time, Parrothead found herself cold, lonely, and bored.
It wasn’t long until she noticed the birds.
Gathered in great flocks, they made their migration South. South? Parrothead wondered. What reason would the birds have to migrate so? Were they also being called to a new land, like she was to the swamp?
No, the birds came back in the spring.
Perhaps, they were escaping the winter? The thought left Parrothead tingling with curiosity. Next winter, she would follow them on their journey. She gathered her few belongings, and followed the path of the migrating birds.
It was a long journey, and the shift of weather was not immediate. For a long time, Parrothead gave up hope that the journey would prove useful. She was tired, and not a very active acha. Still, she had no eagerness to return home. She wanted to see where this journey brought her.
Eventually, she reached an impasse.
The ocean.
The birds could keep flying over the water, but Parrothead could not. At first, this was a disappointing matter. Parrothead slept on it for many nights, trying to think of ways she might be able to follow across that body of water. Perhaps she could fashion a boat. Could she swim? Were there islands? Would she feel the ache of the swamp, if she made it that far out?
What if she was a bird? How she longed to be like them in that moment. Winged, and free from the constraints of the ground beneath her. She could fly over the water and always be warm and comfortable with a flock to call her own. She dreamed about it, again and again.
Finally, she was broken from her thoughts by hunger. She had run low on food, and now had to search to fill her stomach. She settled on some strange new foods, but found them all the more exciting. Eating her food, she watched the sun set over the horizon. Then, Parrothead understood.
This was paradise.
And this was her migration. It had not been cut short, it did not need more fulfillment. She could be happy here, with the strange food and strange dirt under her hooves. How had she not realized how beautiful and unique it was! Pale and coarse, contrasted by the blue lapping waves. Now she finally realized, she was not cold from the winter air here! Now, she shook with delight.
This was her home.
Perhaps, she’d make the migration back in the spring. Only to tell others of this beautiful land, where the border of the swamp met water. But she would never linger, and especially not during the winter.