It took a while for my leg to heal and I had to stay in bed for a several weeks before I could get back to caring for my birds.
When my leg did get better, I was still very curious and still looked around at the many strange, beautiful and sometimes terrifying animals; but now, I always went with someone else.
And I always came back to my birds. I decided to learn as much about them as possible.
There were lots of strange and beautiful birds to see and to get to know. There were white ones and black ones; red ones and green ones; yellow ones and blue ones. Every color you could ever imagine was painted on those birds. There were even some that had lots of different colors on them. It was a color explosion. It was everywhere. It was marvelous!
There were very big ones and very tiny ones. Some were noisy, and some were quiet. Some just squawked loudly while others sang sweetly and quietly.
But, no matter how excited they seemed to get at times, when I took out my flute and played for them, they settled down and got almost quiet.
One day as I was sitting and playing for them, I realized Grampa was sitting next to me. He had sat down while I was playing and I didn’t even notice. “You’re getting pretty good with that little flute of yours,” he said. “I like the way you play, and it seems the birds do too. In fact, all the animals nearby seem to settle down and quietly listen to you.” I hadn’t noticed the part about the other animals. I had just noticed the birds.
Grampa seemed to favor the birds above all the animals like I did. We liked sitting together and talking or just listening to the birds sing. After a while, I noticed there was one mostly white bird that would move over closer to me when I was playing, and it would sing with me while I was playing. I liked that, and so I began to play even more often than before.
The mostly-white bird, which Grampa told me was called a dove, moved closer and closer to me on a low hanging branch. When I fed the birds, I started making sure the dove got extra food. He would even eat out of my hand sometimes. I named him Jubal. I think it was a he. I’m not really sure. Jubal was the name of one of my ancestors who played the pipes, so I thought the name fit him.
Jubal and I would spend part of every day together. I would play, and he would sing. After a while, his mate would join us too. I named her Adah. They were a lot of fun to be with.
Then one day Grampa told me, “Enoch, the Lord has been speaking to me and told me there was going to be a special job soon for a few of the birds. He wants me to take one up to a window on the upper deck and let it go to see if it comes back. This is part of God’s plan for us, Enoch. This is how the Lord is going to let us know He is preparing for us to leave the Ark.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that. We had been on this trip for several months now. We had all been looking forward to the day it would come to an end but, now, I was worried for Jubal. Would Grampa send him? What would happen to him? Would he be able to find his way back? Would he get lost and die?
I made a plan to take Jubal and Adah and hide them. I know my Grampa means well, but these two birds were my very best friends.