Satisfied that everything was fully watered, he turned off the hose. The beating of tiny wings and the faint peeping and crackling of birds landing in the tree caused him to go quiet, setting down the hose as carefully as possible, so as not to startle the creatures. He stood perfectly still, moving only his eyes, smiling as he caught sight of the large flock of birds that were now making their way into the grass below the tree.
Birds foraging in his back yard was nothing new. All the wildflowers and grasses released seeds that were otherwise hard to find in this area, and they flocked here almost daily at this time of year. He smiled from headlight to headlight as the entire flock flew in unison down to the dirt fringe around the grass, and he dared not move, in case he frightened them away. Even if this wasn't a rare occurrence, it was still equally beautiful every time, and he had never been this close to the birds before.
An idea hit him, and he backed up as slowly as he could. The majority of the flock returned to the tree nervously. Fillmore frowned slightly, and headed quietly into his dome. Hopefully they would return. He rummaged around in his closet, amoung buckets that would later be used for mixing fuel and canisters that were to hold the same substance, until he spotted what he was looking for: a slightly rusted bucket half filled with sunflower seeds. He took it with him outside and searched for the flock. For a moment he thought perhaps he had lost them, but no, there they were. There was another flurry of wings and feathers as the birds, who had ventured back toward the ground, retreated to the tree yet again in fright.
Fillmore averted his eye, knowing from experience that an animal was much more likely to approach you if you didn't look at it. He was right, and after about ten minutes, the tiny creatures began returning, one by one, to the ground. Pecking, scratching and foraging, soon the whole flock was within a few feet of him, feeding together.
Once he was sure the birds were used to him, he slowly and carefully pulled out the bucket of seeds. He tipped it to the side slightly, allowing a small amount of the seeds to fall noisily to the ground. The birds, who had been fed by the bus before, tilted their heads at the familiar sound of the food and quickly flocked to the fallen seeds. Fillmore's smile grew, and he watched contently, occasionally tipping the bucket again to allow more seeds to fall. He didn't dare move, not even an inch, lest he accidentally hurt one of the creatures or scare them off.
Fillmore was pleasantly surprised to hear the sound of tiny little feet against metal, as a bird landed on his rear view mirror and gave a small warble. Fillmore laughed, then quieted himself, hoping it would stay.
Whether the birds enjoyed the feeling of Fillmore's sun heated body, or preferred using him as a branch free vantage point, more and more of them began to perch on him. The rest of them chose his back, hopping about and tilting their heads downward, awaiting the moment when more seeds would be tipped onto the ground.
But just as suddenly as the birds had come, they fled back into the tree in a frantic flapping of wings and chirps of alarm, as an angry revving engine approached.
"I don't recall giving you permission to use my h - ... " Sarge began, stopping at the sight of a flock of birds departing from his friend.
"What in the word was that all about?"
Fillmore's face fell as the birds vanished. He turned around to face the Jeep. For a moment he just blinked at him, not sure what to do with this sudden confrontation. The birds had been far more understanding company.
"Well, y'know," he began, "It's been awefully dry lately, and the flowers weren't looking very happy, and all. You water your lawn once a day, so I didn't think sparing a little water for them would be something to get all uptight about, man." He turned his wheels outward in the vehicle version of a shrug.
"That doesn't explain why that flock of birds was attacking you," Sarge stated, one 'eyebrow' raised.
Fillmore broke into a smile.
"Oooh, them. They come around here a lot at this time of year, I like to feed them. I have to make sure I feed the little dudes regularly, right, because if you don't they'll get all out of whack and confused..." He gestured toward the bucket of seeds.
Sarge stared at the bucket for a moment, nonplussed. Did Fillmore really have that much time to kill?
"So you're the one who attracts them, are you? There was a whole flock of them gathered in my lawn the other day, just after I had mowed it." Sarge clearly did not share Fillmore's joy at having a flock of birds on his property.
Sarge's distaste went right over Fillmore's head, and he grinned.
"Oh, yeah, I know. Because, when you mow the lawn, you stir up bugs and stuff that birds like to eat. Really, man, you feed them more than I do."
Sarge's face fell.
A single brave bird landed on the rim of the bucket of seeds, scuttling along the side experimentally and pondering on how it could reach the treasure inside. Fillmore eyed it through his rear-view mirror, but it soon took off as Sarge moved toward it, waving a tire in the air and calling "Shoo!"
Fillmore held up his own tire to stop him, and for a moment they touched wheels. Sarge looked as if he was about to snap at Fillmore, then lowered his own tire and waited, grumpily, for Fillmore to state his case.
"No need to get all aggressive with the little guys," Fillmore said. Sarge snorted angrily, but Fillmore ignored him and continued.
"You know, man, if it weren't for those birds, bugs would probably eat your lawn down to nothing," he said, tipping his front end in an enthusiastic nod. "We need to live in, like, harmony with them, and all. They're not pests. And it's totally relaxing, feeding them. You should give it a shot, Sarge."
Just a few months ago, Sarge would have scoffed at the idea. Okay, so he was scoffing at it now, but he wasn't leaving. Fillmore had brought out quite a change in him, since the two of them had discovered they had more in common than they had originally thought. So he stayed. He didn't speak a word, only gave Fillmore a slightly skeptical "I'm listening" look.
Fillmore's smile grew, and his relaxed stance returned. He pushed the bucket toward Sarge.
"Just park real close to the tree. Don't move, or you'll spook them. And just wait, maybe try tipping some of the seeds into the dirt."
Sarge followed the instructions, but his movements were far from quiet. Unlike Fillmore, his engine was in the front, not the back. And it was about twice as loud. He didn't seem like he even knew how to move quietly.
"Easy, man," Fillmore warned. "Remember how much bigger than them you are. Move slow, tell your engine to chill out a little, okay?"
Sarge grunted impatiently, but he waited, unmoving. He tipped some of the seeds to the ground after a few moments, tilting his frame back slightly to eye the birds. It was clear they were eager to get at the food, but were far too nervous to approach the Jeep.
Fillmore encouraged Sarge quietly, smiling warmly at the Jeep's awkward attempt to learn some gentleness. Could that possibly be the same Jeep who had built a fence between their two properties once Fillmore had moved in next door all those years ago?
"You're doing great, just wait a little bit longer. You stirred them up a bit before, but when they get hungry enough, they'll come back down."
Sure enough, Sarge didn't have to wait much longer. Soon the birds were dropping to the ground one by one, beginning to peck at his offering. He tilted more of the seeds to the ground, until the entire flock had surrounded him in a chattering mass. Fillmore was pretty sure even more had shown up, drawn by the noise of the seeds falling when he bus had fed them earlier.
Before long, the birds who had eaten their fill were either returning to the tree, or perching on Fillmore, who gave another laugh of joy. Sarge was just starting to wonder why they were avoiding him, when one of them landing directly on his hood, pecking at the star painted in the centre. Sarge crossed his eyes slightly to get a better look.
Sarge had a way of smiling more with his eyes than with his mouth, and Fillmore quickly picked up on the change in his expression. Sarge's front bumper curled up slightly as his smile grew. More birds were landing on his hood, and Fillmore couldn't help but laugh out loud. Sarge gave a chuckle of his own.
The birds eventually departed when all the food was gone, headed to a destination unknown. The standoffish Sarge that had stormed onto the scene fourty five minutes ago was gone, replaced with the Sarge had Fillmore rarely saw. Flooded with love for the Jeep and unable to help himself, the Volkswagen rolled forward and gave the Jeep a gentle kiss on the side of his nose.
This caused Sarge to do something he had never done before. His eyes, instead of looking around to see if anyone else had spotted what had just occurred, turned directly to look at Fillmore. His mouth, instead of turning to a nervous frown, remained in a smile. Of course, Sarge had returned Fillmore's affections before, but in broad daylight, and outside, to boot? Never.
Fillmore was even more alarmed when Sarge turned on his wheels and offered a kiss in return; a gentle, lingering kiss under his friend's single rear-view mirror, over the rainbow. The hippie bus sunk low on both axles and gave a quiet sigh, his body parts turning to jelly. Sarge chuckled quietly, but then backed away.
"I have work to do," he said, clearly regretting that fact. There was a pause, and then he added, a bit stiffly, "But, if you want, I can drop by at around eight..." He trailed off, waiting for an answer.
Fillmore smirked and pretended to consider the question. "Hmm, man, I dunno, I got a heavy schedule tonight, I dunno if I'll be able to fit you in..."
Sarge's face fell and Fillmore laughed loudly, rolling his eyes.
"Come on, dude, lighten up. Of course I wanna see you at eight. I'm always here, and when I'm not, I'm with you." He gave Sarge a very gentle push with his front wheel, playfully. Sarge smiled in what could only be embarrassment and headed off without a word.