Rachel, a Blackburnian Warbler, tidied up her nest. She had spent several days constructing the comfortable 'home for two' and now she was finished, yet not quite satisfied. She was nervous. She scurried from one side of the nest to the other, adjusting this, fluffing that and tweaking the other. She stood back to observe her handiwork, trying to imagine what another bird might think of it, another bird that she would choose tomorrow to be her lifemate. Rachel was driven by the primitive instincts of nature. She couldn't be spending this opening day of mating season eve any other way if she'd wanted to. Nature demands procreation and tomorrow Rachel must choose a partner to assist her in this tedious task. She must choose a boy-bird that is the handsomest, smartest, most talented, kindest, and gentlest bird in the forest--and she would find him by the tune he sang.

Rachel knew there was going to be a lot of competition out there tomorrow and she wanted to get a good nights sleep, get up early, and have plenty of time to choose her mate. She retired earlier than usual and lay in her little bed watching the sunset. Wispy streaks of high cirrus clouds still glowed silver in the brilliant sunlight, but below, the herd of lower, puffy cumulus was beginning to darken, stroked with blends of purples and maroons. With every blink of the eye the panoramic scene changed slightly as the skyscape faded into the western sky. (Like birds, human beings, and snowflakes--no two sunsets are alike.)

As darkness fell on the forest, Rachel closed her eyes and her thoughts involuntarily turned to the events of a year ago. The vision of the big party at Tommy Thrush's boarding-nest filled her mind. It was on the eve of the opening day of mating season a year ago--her first opening day. She felt the feelings she'd felt then. For a few seconds Rachel's thoughts were of the good time she'd had at the beginning of the big bash before she started drinking and using drugs. She had been flirting with Tommy Thrush and he had flirted back. She had laughed at his jokes even though she didn't understand half of them. She'd been such a naive young chick at that time. Being the youngest chick at the big party, she felt that the other, older girly-birds envied her because of Tommy's attention. In her mind she was the belle of the ball, and she'd enjoyed that. In reality, though, not a single bird at the big party had paid the slightest bit of attention to her and Tommy Thrush. Everybirdy there was wrapped up in their own egos and each one considered themselves to be the belle of the ball or the stud of the flock. After she had started drinking fig-slush and eating amphedagnats, her attention to Tommy Thrush had turned to obsession, and she actually didn't remember much after that.

Rachel tried to force these uncomfortable memories from her mind so she could sleep, but her thoughts moved on to the next day, the opening day of mating season a year ago, and how she had awakened sick from overindulging in the alcohol and gnats, how she had went in search of Tommy, how she had eaten a whole candy dish of larvae not knowing what they were. She thought of how she'd completely missed the first day of mating season a year ago, her coming out so to speak, her debut, as it were, her first opening day. She thought about her alcohol and drug addictions and how she'd wasted almost a year of her life with Tommy Thrush, staying drunk and high all the time with him. But that was in the past, she thought as she rolled onto her side and snuggled her tiny head into her pinfeathers. I must concentrate on the future.

Then, Rachel began to think of tomorrow, her second chance to fill the nagging void in her psyche, the void that could only be filled by following her primitive, natural instincts. Those instincts had controlled her mind through every step as she constructed her new nest, her second nest, a nest with a toilet hole. She had made it perfect for her and her new mate and the chicks they would raise. And, tomorrow Nature would guide Rachel as she searched for her mate. She smiled as she imagined what her prince charming-bird would look like. She pictured him perched on a limb, wings spread, head thrown back, singing at the top of his lungs, singing her favorite song. She imagined herself listening from a few trees away as he finished up his love ballad, folded his wings and lowered his head. Tommy Thrush! Rachel shook her head, trying to remove the image of Tommy Thrush from her mind. She couldn't now, but he'd be gone from her memory tomorrow. Tomorrow she would choose a Warbler, a bird of her own species, a handsome, talented mate who would sing to her and love her like no other bird could. Then, the memories of Tommy Thrush would be erased from her mind forever.

Rachel spent a restless night. She rolled and tossed and had fragmented dreams about Carolyn Wren, her one time friend, and of Paulette and Ralphine, the lesbian couple she'd met at Tommy Thrush's boarding-nest. She thought about her counselor at Birdland Acres, the alcohol and drug treatment tree where Tommy Thrush had graciously volunteered to pay for her 28 day stay to 'take the cure.' Maggie Magpie had given Rachel good advice about how to plan her future without alcohol and drugs. And, Rachel remembered the student-psychiatrist bird who had sit in on the group session while she had related her life story. He had made her very mad at first, telling her she couldn't blame anybirdy but herself for her addictions, but in the end he had given everybirdy the simple cure--"Keep the cork in the bottle and stay away from amphedagnats and larvae." Rachel remembered when she'd heard that Tommy Thrush had went back to drinking and using drugs. She had been advised to forget about him completely and find a new mate, but no matter how hard Rachel tried, the vision of Tommy Thrush was always lurking somewhere in her thoughts.

She awoke several times during the night and sat on the edge of her nest, her feet dangling beneath her. She forced herself to listen to the night sounds, the crickets and the tree frogs, chirping and croaking out their mating calls. She could hear the thumping rush of wind around the wings of owls as they stalked the forest for their meals. She tried to let these sounds occupy her mind, to wash away those unwanted memories. She sat and listened to the rhythms of the forest until her eyelids began to droop with oncoming sleep, the sleep she so dearly desired--peaceful, dreamless sleep. But, when she returned to her little bed, and closed her tiny eyes, the worrisome visions of her past again rushed into her mind to torment her--and she cried.

The last fitful segment of sleep carried Rachel past the time she had planned to arise. She was exhausted when she awoke, listless and droopy from lack of sleep. She sat on the edge of her little bed and wiped her matted eyes. She stood up, stretched, yawned, and then realized that the sun was high above the horizon. Her heart sank. "I have done it again," she said aloud, "my life was doomed from the minute I was born."