The Bluebird of Befuddlement

Whenever the bluebird of befuddlement lit upon our little backyard feeder, we found ourselves without much in the way of coherent speech.

Uh, we said, one b’ one b’ one b’ one. Uhhh. Umm. Uhhhhhhh.

The bluebird of befuddlement would peck and peck and peck at the ample mound of birdseed that filled the feeder.

Sometimes it would sing, and its song sounded like “what the…what the…what the.”

But our befuddlement was not predictive of the bluebird’s proximity. Often, we achieved full befuddlement all on our own, no avian assistance necessary.

Of all the members of our group, I was perhaps the most befuddled. I was no good at hiding it, either. When I was befuddled, everyone could see my befuddlement on my face, plain as day.

I’d furrow my brows, screw up my face.

Look at that, they’d say. Uh-oh. Clyde’s befuddled again.

All eyes would shift to the feeder. Whether the bluebird of befuddlement was there, gorging itself on sunflower seeds and freeze-dried apricot pieces and shouting “what the…what the…,” was pretty much a fifty-fifty proposition.

And then—just like that, as they say—the skies would clear, and we’d all start making sense again. Logic would reign. Occam’s razor would slice runaway undisciplined thoughts to ribbons.

“Of course,” we would say. And “naturally.” And “it follows that.” And “it stands to reason.”

Nathan liked to say, “Consequently.” He was always saying it.

I think consequently is your favorite word of all the words, I said one fine fall day.

I like it, replied Nathan, because it contains all possible phonemes.

No it doesn’t, said Lucy.

You’re right, it doesn’t, admitted Nathan. You caught me. You called me out.

Fraud, said Maude, who liked to say “fraud.”

Fraud is Maude’s, said Lucy. What’s yours?

Lucy was looking at me.

Lucy, I said.

Lucy is your favorite! said Nathan. Oh wow. Oh shit. I knew it. I’ve always known it.

Lucy, I said again. Lucy. Behind you.

Lucy’s eyes went wide. All of ours did. Even the bluebird of befuddlement was nonplussed.

“What the…,” it sang. “What the…”