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You would think he would be the bird in the cage.
The Onceler, the greatest man in the world would be constricted and suffocated just like a bird. Trapped under his own powerful mind and ego which wanted nothing more than just to spread. Stretching out each mighty and money lusting green glove across every piece of land that shivered and beckoned under his will to bring more and more into his cage.
It wasn’t like that.
He trapped people inside the cage instead.
The Onceler no longer gazed at the constantly twirling and dialling counter which told him he long surpassed a billion, a trillion perhaps even a gazillion dollars an hour ago. He did not care for the sounds of gigantic and willowing trees to collapse and fall down; for the chainsaws and axes and grunts to clear them up outside his grand window. He did not care for the little toys which sat on his desk which many imagined he planned his next forest domination over.
Instead, he stared at the bird in the cage. The only thing he sighed to admit, that stayed in his life. The little bird did nothing but gaze sadly at the floor, already knowing to never gaze into the eyes of the only man in the world which could feed you.
And unfortunately for him to realise.
The same man that could take it away.
It was afraid for what it had seen; colossal, gigantic and towering cotton swirls of pink and yellow which swayed and danced across the once green land. And for the same creature which once enthusiastically quacked and flapped their wings at their new friend in the forest, it began to slowly regress as each tree which once housed, fed and blessed it was ground down.
It was like a ticking hourglass really. For each time it heard the same whimper of quake against the ground, for each time it heard the leaves brush against the floor similar to a hand over a body at a funeral and for each sigh as the tree went from high in the heavens of the sky to death on the barren black floor and for each time it lost every part of it’s very soul in its home.
It died.
Just by some thought of him. That even one soul of his own kind had been scraped one by one and coin by coin into a swamping black pool of evil. One which stuck and clang onto him to do worse and worse.
And yet, the bird did nothing as evil as he. The Onceler had seen how the very being which comprised the animal and connected it to the forest had died. It had become more and more depressed, wings not resting but surrendering down to death as it’s side as each connection was severed with each tree fallen.
Unlike he, the bird never became cruel.
It had just given up. It sat in it’s cage and did nothing. Not even eating the last scarce morsel of seeds he gave it.
It was just ready to die. It was ready to give up as soon as the very world it grew in died.
And the Onceler stared at the other counter nearby, knowing that the very last tree would be cut down soon enough. That the very last piece of fine string, connecting every soul in the forest would soon be severed off and die.
Just like his soul, their paths had been whittled down until a final string easily blown in the wind. He might not even cut down the last tree, perhaps the last animals themselves accepting their fate and deciding to go down as one species by beating down the tree.
He could imagine it now; each defeated and weary punch of the bear paw and suffocated gulp of the fish and each frustrated blow and claw grab from the swans. That they would rather take their own lives by their own wishes instead of him do so.
They would rather die than be around him.
He looked at the sorry bird again. As it glared and for once, stared at the faint and dreary outside.
It wasn’t a question.
It would want to die than be with him.
The Onceler took a deep sigh. He knew the bird had relief in their soul, that somehow a creature not of the same intellect and mind as he was able to redeem themselves. That he was somehow strangled and toggled by either his own selfishness or by somebody like a puppet to evil and cruelty.
But this bird wasn’t.
And he knew it was too late to do anything, even with a sudden change in heart. The last tree would be cut down soon enough and he knew that last note would sit in his hand with no joy.
He opened the cage.
And let it go.
The Onceler just saw it happily flutter, alive again almost with the stringed and connected wind, as it went away from the office.
He brought his hand to his green clothed chest.
He would let the bird have a choice. For it to choose to be good and kind for once.
As he laid dormant in his own misery of his own treachery. And for it to die far away from him. While he didn’t have the sorry choice of that for himself.
The Onceler quietly stood there and watched the bird fly away.