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“You have been moving around for a long time, Reich. I do not think the bird will show up until you stop,” Soviet murmured, arms crossed, leaning against a tree. Dawn’s sunlight kissed the right side of his face, small rays seeping through the thick canopy, illuminating spots on the ground below.
One of his eyes was open, observing the restless German with a smirk on his face. Reich had insisted on birdwatching together, and Soviet eventually gave in (if only to get the man to quit bothering him), being dragged by the wrist into an unpaved part of some forest.
“Shhh,” hissed Reich, swivelling his head to deliver Soviet a sharp glare. “I’m trying to find a good spot. And it’s not here because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Sowjet. Soviet.”
That was rich coming from the Third Reich. He snorted.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“It is nothing.”
Reich narrowed his eyes. “Don’t mess around. If you so much as think about doing so, I will chop you up and use you as bait, I swear it.” He turned around again, gripping either side of his military binoculars as he scanned the expansive network of branches above.
Apparently, he had caught sight of a ‘rare species' whilst he was walking his dog yesterday, and simply had to see it again. If Soviet were honest, he did not hear much of the details, as he had been sleeping before being rudely awakened by Reich’s rambling at five in the morning. There was something about ‘the early bird catches the worm’, but Soviet was not an early bird, nor was he interested in catching a worm. Were they not out here to catch the bird, anyway? If the early bird catches the worm, what catches the early bird? An even earlier bird?
Rustling leaves broke the silence, and an eager Reich pointed his binoculars in the direction it came from.
“Is that it?” Soviet asked, keeping his voice low.
“...I can’t tell. I need to get a better angle–”
Just as Reich shuffled, the bird flew away, making the leaves rattle again and scaring another flock into leaving as well.
“VERDAMMT DAMN IT!!”
And one more flock joined the skies. Soviet could almost see the steam leaving Reich’s ears. “That could’ve been it! Verdammt noch mal- For fuck's sake- don’t you dare say anything, Sowjet! Soviet!”
He was not planning to, but he did nothing to hide the grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Tch. Now I have to wait again. You- I should never have taken you with me. At least there would still be birds to see. Dummer Kommunist... Stupid communist...”
If you asked the ‘stupid communist’, he would say there was still a bird to see, right in front of him. Large black wings, striking orange eyes, and the worst attitude in a country he had the pleasure of experiencing.
“You blame me?”
“Yes! I was here with Blondi. When she barked, it wasn’t this quiet. Obviously, it’s your fault!”
Shifting responsibility, as per usual. “She must not have been very intimidating then. Like her owner, yes?”
Reich’s retort came swiftly. “We weren’t trying to be. She can be intimidating when she wants to - so can I. You’re the one who can’t control your presence if your life depended on it!”
Soviet hummed. Unfortunately, Reich was not entirely wrong. “So you want me to leave?”
“Yes, Sowjet Soviet,, I want you to- what? I- no, I want you to listen to me for once! Stand there, and do not move, do not speak, and do not even breathe when the bird is here.”
The Russian huffed, amused. “How will I know when the bird is here?”
Reich thought for a few seconds. “I’ll whisper to you. Come closer.” He shuffled aside, leaving what was definitely too little space for Soviet to the left of him, both stationed behind a sizable decaying log. The Union managed to squeeze in, making sure the bark did not catch on his clothing.
Minutes ticked by without motion. Not from the two nations stalking the forest, and not from the forest itself. Soviet did not really have complaints about the situation; he enjoyed being in the woods, where it was relatively calm and peaceful - especially compared to running his country. A bear in its natural habitat. The one complaint he had was on how cramped it was. His legs were beginning to get numb.
“There!” came Reich’s hushed yell. The German’s feathers ruffled in excitement as he craned his neck to get a better view. “I knew I saw him. Oh, he’s magnificent,” Reich cooed, smiling.
It would be nice if Soviet knew what he was talking about.
“Der Schreiadler The screaming eagle,” said Reich, as if reading his mind.
Soviet still did not know what Reich was talking about, as the man only gave him a name to the mysterious bird. Well, he could live with not knowing, but he was slightly curious.
“Here.”
Reich lifted the binoculars up to Soviet’s face, holding it at eye-level for him, probably because he did not trust Soviet to hold it himself. Through the lens, he could make out a large brown shape. Its wings were speckled with white and a darker brown, as was its body and neck. Its beak was a bright yellow as radiant as Reich’s pupils.
“Малый подорлик The small spotted eagle,,” Soviet mused. Now he was able to give an identity to the no-longer-mysterious bird. He had seen these before, but they were quite rare by his standards, too.
“Hold it,” instructed Reich, and Soviet did. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Reich pointing the camera around his neck at the eagle.
Click.
The eagle looked directly where it was shot. Its wings spread, ready to take off.
Click. Click. Click.
A few more for good measure. They were probably going to turn out blurry though. Well, Reich better be okay with one good photo, as the bird was gone. (There was no way Reich would be okay with that. Soviet mentally prepared himself to return here in a couple days once the film had processed, since he was not going to be leaving Berlin until next week.)
“Endlich! At last!” Reich beamed. “I did it! I did it, Sowjet Soviet!!”
Seeing Reich be genuinely happy made Soviet’s stomach flutter. That proud, toothy grin was an expression he could never tire of seeing. “Mm-hm. I do not understand why you did not bring your gun instead to shoot. Then you can bring it home and see it every day.”
Reich looked personally offended, like Soviet suggested that he put a bullet through his own head.
“That…That is the most insane–”
“I am joking with you.”
With a roll of his eyes, Reich elbowed Soviet in the chest with enough force to knock him down. His back met the foliage, wet with dew, as he grunted. “Eagles are the symbol of the Reich. They are to be admired, not killed. Crazy Bolschewik Bolshevik.. Get up.”
Soviet did, because he was not eager to soil his clothes further. Reich snatched his binoculars back, placing them in the designated bag that hung across his body. They trudged towards the main path, the German practically skipping with glee.
The Russian looked forward to taking a nap once they returned, yawning as he sauntered behind Reich. Well, this was not the worst way to spend the morning, he supposed.
And, as it turns out, the early bird is caught by an even earlier bird.