When I was about twelve, there was a nest of hatchlings under the eve of my house. I took one of these hatchlings and raised him by my own hand. I invented a formula to feed my hatchling. He thrived on this formula and he grew into a strong fledgling.
I kept him in a nest that I had made inside of an aquarium that I kept next to the television in our family room. The aquarium was his Reality, and the family room was his Heaven. The television was on in the mornings, in the afternoons, and into the evenings. He was a Black Bird and a Black Bird can imitate sounds very well; so he heard the voices and imitated them. It sounded like the television at a distance; like little people talking, where you couldn't quite understand the words. I must say — it was an excellent imitation.
"Words are universal symbols and they mean exactly what one would think that they mean, each time they are used. Every time a word is uttered or written down or thought up -- it is unique. Words are always used in context and that context can never be exactly the same. There never has been and there never could be, the exact same meaning attributed to any given Word twice."
(αω) He would come when I called him, and I called him "Baby." I had taught him to fly, but had not yet taught him to hunt. He would fly around the neighborhood exploring; sometimes landing to talk to dogs, cats, squirrels, rabbits, or anyone else who would listen. I have no doubt that he knew exactly what he was talking about, even if others misunderstood him.
As time went by, he ventured further and further away, sometimes landing somewhere to explore and talk. Speaking of the wonderful love of his heaven, his father, and the wonders he had seen there. He really loved life, and I loved my fledgling very much.