The lands and seas of the earth are heated by the summer sun. Powered by rainwater running down muddy mountain sides, the Li River in JiangXi, China is murky and white. Silver carps are relieved from the previous cold winter. These fish are easy to see, mainly because of their scales as shiny as silver. Luckily they don’t have to worry about predators because they blend well with the river’s murkiness at this time of the year. Rivers like these are rich with newly arrived silver carp during the summer. The juveniles swim against the current in search of food. They wiggle their tails like small flags, treading away from the depths to sunlight. One juvenile fish picks up a lingering scent of a delicious meal nearby. It wiggles closer to the riverbank, and the aroma gets stronger. The stronger the scent, the hungrier the carp gets.

Finally, the fish finds what it is looking for: A juicy, pink noodle of meat. The carp excitedly swims and gulps its treat. 

The young fish tries to swim away from the glistening surface, but something prevents it from returning. It struggles to escape a metallic hook that pierces through its mouth. Fortunately, the carp does not feel the pain because it does not have pain nerves in its mouth.

But suddenly, the scaled animal is pulled by an unseen force. The fish is forced out of the water as its tail drags against the shapeshifting surface. At last, the creature is pulled onto land by a fisherwoman. The woman pulls the carp away from its home, and places it in a bucket full of its other dying friends. It leaps aimlessly in the bucket, struggling for oxygen, but the attempts are futile, as it is too far from the riverbank. At least the carp will not die alone.

Nearby, the 4-year-old Michael walks, covering his nose from the odorous smell of the dying carp. He sees them bouncing in the bucket in agony, as if asking for his help to rescue them. They cannot scream to him, since their voices are gagged by the hot air of summer. In his mind, his sorrow builds up for the fish that are sold everywhere in this town.

There is a brush among the garbage pails during the storm at a house on Crestview Drive; a night soldier of black and white emerges from the drenched sheets of dark plastic. 

Here is an adult skunk, looking for shelter from the rain. Skunks are known for releasing odorous smells, but these smells cannot combat the heavy downpours from Mother Nature. Its fur coat is not the best raincoat either. The skunk has decided to settle by some trash cans for the night, and prepares for a nap. 

However, the hopes for sleep are immediately foiled; the animal is spotted by the angry residents of the house. A man and woman scream at the skunk. The night soldier of black and white may not be such a soldier after all. The residents frighten the skunk so much that it forgets to spray the noxious odor, which is what these residents fear it for. They see this nocturnal creature of black and white as a demon, not a soldier. The skunk flees its shelter, and trudges into the openness of heavy rain. Drenched and fatigued, the skunk falls on the rough pavement, shivering from the cold of the seething rainwater. Now, it can only hope that the rain will cease.

Its moment of hope is disrupted when it comes face to face with the blinding headlights of a pickup truck. The vehicle strikes the skunk in the head, and the truck veers, crushing the skunk with its heavy-duty tires.

The skunk’s bones are reduced into brittle smithereens, and a pool of fresh, red fluid floods through the clear, streaming rainwater. Despite the horrific sight, the driver continues on. He will forget the kill in no time. The pouring rain gives the skunk’s body a final bath, and washes away the blood. The skunk’s existence is washed away with it, before being drained into the nearby sewers of oblivion and forgotten. 

The skunk would only live on in Michael’s mind. He would encounter the carcass for the next few days when going to school. He, much like a majority of the neighborhood, feared skunks beforehand. Now, he wonders if such fear for these vulnerable creatures is even necessary. He would only feel a sense of shame everytime he sees the lifeless, forgotten, night soldier of black and white. 

Michael lays in bed as the sounds of scraping keep him awake. The sounds come from a floor above.

The wooden attic is dusty, and whiffs of bug repellent and 10 year old wood. The room is dark and eerily silent, except for the noise that keeps Michael awake, and it’s nothing ordinary:

A field mouse has been living in Michael’s attic for about 10 days. Its color matches that of the drab attic wood. The darkness and having poor eyesight are no deterrence to the mouse, for its strong sense of smell makes up for its near-blindness. The rodent has been feasting on the rice of old bean bags stored in the attic. While it scurries across the rough floor, it pays no attention to being stealthy. Its pointed claws tap on the attic wood and create sounds loud enough to be heard on the floor below. 

As it goes for its next midnight snack, it discovers all the rice is gone. All that remains are the hollow husks of the fabric bags. If there is no food left, the mouse will starve to death. Luckily, the mouse picks up a new smell, something better than that of raw grains of rice. It sniffs the ground, picking up the scent. As the rodent comes closer to its target, it becomes more desperate to eat. 

At last, the mouse has discovered some nuts. It happily devours its new meal. Then, the fieldmouse hears a loud clunk. The mouse panics and tries to scurry some more, but it is blocked by a square of metal. The more it tries to escape, the more metal it comes across. The attic is still dark at dawn, but the mouse knows now what it is up against. Michael’s family had set a cage trap to stop the small mammal from disrupting their sleep. The field mouse doesn’t pay attention to the food anymore, and spends the hours panicking and fearing what will happen to itself. Its whiskers shake and its brown fur trembles as it races everywhere in its new prison.

Unfortunately, the mouse succumbs to its own fear, and its rapidly beating heart comes to a complete stop. The rodent lies still, with no more life left in its eyes.

By the time it is morning, Michael and his father arrive, and discover this tragedy. Ironic as the trap is called “Have-a-Heart.” This cage trap had mercy on the mouse, keeping it alive while in its brief period of solitary confinement, as opposed to a wood board that crushes a mouse with a metal clamp. This would grant the rodent a brutal death. While the family does have a heart, it seems their hearts weren’t kind enough for a mouse. Michael stares at the still mouse, looking into its blank eyes. A feeling of promise travels through Michael’s own heart. He tells himself not to let this happen again.

One cloudy spring morning, Michael is getting ready for school. As he and his father walk from the back door, they find a young bird sitting on the rocks of their garden. Michael observes the bird closely, and finds no interesting features. The bird is plain brown, with a dull-coloured beak, and it stares back at the boy with a bored expression. Michael is desperate to save the creature, but his father says there is no hope for rescuing the bird. The father explains that the bird is a youngster that fell out of its nest, and they don’t know where its home really is. Despite Michael’s protests, his father takes him to school and leaves the bird behind. 

The fledgling still has the bored expression as it stares at their car vanishing into the tree-lined driveway. Deep down, the fledgling is the most scared and vulnerable creature in the neighborhood. The bird has actually been lost from the nest for five days, with no food, water, or shelter. Its thinness gives for the appearance of its lack of features, and it will only undergo more physical deterioration throughout this day. As the hours pass, it becomes so weak that it is unable to stand up. The bird trembles from starvation, while its legs finally give in and it falls on its side. The bird opens its beak in a struggle for oxygen. Its lungs become more tight as it lies on the rocky garden ground. Its eye stares up at the sky in desperation. The sun touches its beam onto the bird’s body, and the bird finally feels warmth. Under its breath, the bird lets out a weak but triumphant chirp of thanks to Mother Nature for finally letting it rest peacefully. The bird closes its eyes, closing away from the Sun, the rocky garden, and its own starvation.

Michael is downtrodden at what he finds when he returns from school that afternoon. The bird’s resting body is now food for flies. The flies cover the feathers as green emeralds placed on the body for a funeral. Michael silently mourns the ordinary bird, realizing how vulnerable youngsters can be. His mourning shifts to shame, remembering his vow to protect these animals, but he questions whether there is any use battling with Mother Nature.

It is late November. The fallen leaves have turned brown and crisp with all the water drained from them. The temperature is almost at the freezing point. Only a few more days, and dew from the grass will freeze. Squirrels have been gathering as many acorns as possible to prepare for the winter, when the earth becomes cold, barren, and wrapped in ice. One not-so-lucky squirrel was run over by a car. Its innards are scattered like cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving on the street. A dead squirrel will look like an attractive Thanksgiving meal to no predators except one:

A turkey vulture pridefully soars with its wings spread in a V-shape. The antihero of the skies has arrived. The scavenger bird uses its powerful sense of smell to pick up sulphurous chemicals from carcasses a mile away. It has just picked up an odor of a fresh meal waiting below. The vulture dives downwards towards the plumes of the scent. The V-shape of its wings help reduce turbulence as it glides through the windy air, approaching the earth. 

Finally, it lands on a rooftop, confirming its target. The vulture sees the pink flesh and tan fur on the pavement. It is a perfect meal for the scavenger of the skies. However, the vulture realizes that someone else has already got to its target first. The bird sees a teenager wearing apparel that it itself doesn’t need. The boy is wearing a bike helmet which the vulture mistakens for a black, pointed beak. The two remain silent, staring at each other in amazement. The boy suddenly starts to wave in a similar V-shape. The vulture thinks he wants to fly. Little does it know the boy is gesturing to his father in the distance. The vulture assumes that the boy is trying to shoo it away because he got to the prey first. As a result, the vulture spreads its wings, and flies into the distance, allowing the boy to keep the dead squirrel. The boy, Michael, stares as the vulture vanishes into the horizon of the sky. He looks down at the dead squirrel, and wonders if there are beings in the world who benefit from the deaths of others. All he can do is hope that the answer is no.

In the early weeks of June, a young blue jay sits on the driveway in front of a house. It appears as a young girl with blue hair tied in a bun, with a black ribbon tied around her neck, and a beautiful dress mixed with blue, black and gray. The dress has patterns similar to that of a blue monarch butterfly. This woman has black stockings and high heels. 

The blue jay has fallen from its nest and injured its right eye upon landing. As a result, fungi has been growing on the untreated eyelid. If it stays out in the open ground, the possibilities of survival are low. 

Luckily, help is on the way for this juvenile blue jay. Arriving to it are two siblings: Michael and his older sister Dana. The sister holds a cardboard box for the bird, hoping to catch it and take it inside their home.

However, the jay refuses; something calls down to it. Loud chirping bursts from the tall, green-leafed, wooden pillars surrounding the trio. The blue jay responds and opens its beak, blaring out weaker chirps. The jay hops and spreads its wings out like an excited neighbor yelling towards the top floor of an apartment building. It takes off, attempting to reach the source of the noises. The kids watch as the bird flies to the top of their house's roof, but it continues in a downward spiral. When it lands, it flaps its wings and tries again. The flight pattern is more or less the same, reaching the height of the roof and drawing a giant spring with its movement. That is until, BANG! It slams into the wall of the house and falls to the pavement. 

Miraculously, it is still alive and well. The blue little bird stares up at the trees, and continues to squawk to the surrounding noises. Michael believes the chirps from the treetops come from the jay’s family. Dana sees this as a sign that the bird is hungry. She goes around the house, searching for food. 

The family’s lawn soil is rich with worms from spring to summer. By the time Dana gets back, she has collected about 30 worms, more than enough for a blue jay fledgling. She takes a dark pink worm and the blue jay caws, now with a hint of excitement. Dana lowers the worm in the the blue jay’s beak, and it happily swallows its snack. Michael observes his sister, and his excitement to nurse the jay only grows.

Some hours later, the family has to go out for dinner, but they do what they can to protect their new friend. The parents take out a basket. They place it over the young jay to protect it from meeting an untimely demise. The jay will have both space and oxygen inside the shelter. The family drives away in the car, but the two kids sit in the back, eyeing the dark blue cage as it slowly disappears behind the trees.

Two hours later, blinding headlights gleam in the darkness of the woods. The jay awakens from its nap as the headlights glare at its cage. It doesn’t care, however, because it knows who they are. The headlights turn off, and the jay finds itself back in darkness, returning to its slumber with more relief.

The next day, all four family members rush out to say hello to the jay. The blue jay is also excited, and happily chirps as they remove the cage. Michael wants to play with the bird, but he has to go to school. Dana promises to guard the bird while the rest of the family is away. 

However, the moment Michael enters the school hallway, the jay is the least of his worries. At 8:30, his school will start and he will completely forget about the pet by going on with his daily activities. 8:30 also signifies something else at home. Little does he know what is to come.

Once school ends, Michael excitedly skips to his father’s truck. He knows his sister is at home to care for the blue jay. He sits in his Dad’s truck as the latter drives, and Michael asks, “Is the blue jay ok?” 

“No,” he responds, his voice trailing off in a disturbed tone. 

A confused expression manifests on Michael’s face. He looks to see his father. Dad’s furrowed brows grip onto his gleaming glasses. Michael knows there is a problem concerning their fifth family member.
“What happened,” Michael desperately asks. 

His father explains the madness of nature as Michael’s face shifts from confusion to horror.

Michael stares straight ahead of the truck, and sees their house. The blue jay should be on the blacktop, but nothing is there. As the truck inches closer Michael searches thoroughly, but all that remains is the empty, rough pavement. When he gets out of the truck, the shock drains his legs of energy. He collapses to his knees at the blank parking space, too terrified to cry.

At dinner, Dana explains everything, and Michael pictures every detail:

The blue jay excitedly eats its last meal from its new teenage mother. It watches Dana vanish into the caverns of the garage. And then, the fledgling sees a shadow hovering over it. It looks up in horror at the figure circling the blue skies. The jay shrieks in terror trying to signal for help. It screams for its parents, both birds and humans together. The birds’ responses pierce the early summer air with their screeches of helplessness. They know what will happen if nothing is done. Dana doesn’t know why the blue jay is in panic. She looks on as the juvenile continues to shriek at the top of its vulnerable fledgling lungs. The blue jay helplessly stares at the sky, trying to hop away as the W-shaped shadow dives to its location. The chaos within the surrounding woods only grows like a disease spreading from tree to tree, as if the trees themselves are in pain. Now, Dana sees the trouble, and her screams join with those of the surrounding birds. The blue jay’s narrow, damaged eye meets a yellow pair of wide, hungry eyes. The shadow’s brown feathers illuminate in the sunlight as it spreads its wings. The jay feels a brush of air as a red fan of a tail swoops in front of its opened beak, and the razor-sharp talons grip its delicate body. The jay cries as its home becomes more distant. Suffocating from the tight grip of the hawk’s claws, it sees Dana emerging from the shadows of her house. It watches as Dana cries helplessly from below, and it lets out a final, strained chirp, before the last of its breath is forced out of its body.

Michael thinks about his sister’s words as he lies in bed, more than twelve hours after the tragedy. He stares blankly into the sleepful darkness, paralyzed by shock and confusion.

The next afternoon, Michael finds Dana’s sketchbook while pondering about the momentary loss. The page displays a drawing of the blue jay, and below it a short obituary: 

“Remember little Blue Jay - 6/12/11–6/13/11 Fledgling who we cared for, but was grabbed by a hawk in the morning (8:30 am).”

8:30 was the exact moment Michael’s school began, when he let go of his thoughts on the jay and moved onto his own work. Was it because he forgot about the jay that it died? Was it that life stops when one is not thinking about it? At 8:30, Michael stopped thinking about the jay. At 8:30, his sister was to depart from the fledgling to continue her activities. It was because of this, because the jay was left unguarded by devoted attention and thought that it was vulnerable to all the surrounding danger.

As Michael observes his sister’s drawing, he feels he should blame himself for this seventh tragedy. Then, he recalls his mom’s statement at dinner, “You two should be grateful. That blue jay was lucky to have shared some experiences with you. Even if the bird is gone, I’m sure it was thankful that it had you two to protect and take care of it.”

Now Michael imagines his sister’s drawing of the blue jay coming to life to thank him. He pictures this fledgling perching on his hand, playfully flapping its wings like a dancing girl in an ocean-blue dress. The young boy imagines feeding the friend, helping it fly, perhaps returning it to its parents, and maybe watching it mature into a magnificent adult blue jay. Michael finally pictures the fledgling winking its fungi-covered eye at him, spreading its ocean-blue wings, flying off, and vanishing into the sunlit clouds. From the pillows of the glowing white he hears on last squawk signifying a goodbye. The clouds glide away, as nature moves on with time.

Michael finishes writing these stories. He recalls his lessons with all the tragedies of nature. He imagines the madness he fell into with Mother Nature when revisiting and rewriting his past. He imagines reading these stories to all the departed animals: the ants, the carp, the skunk, the mouse, the featureless bird, the vulture, and the blue jay all gathered in front of him as he narrates their part in his life. He apologizes for what happened to them and bids them farewell. Michael wonders if he will meet any animals like these seven in the future. At this moment, Michael remains uncertain. He can only wait until Mother Nature delivers her next message.