Writing | Keesho Bird

"Fledge is a frog who wears a vest. Fledge is frog who rests the best!” Clyde sang, tossing a basket toward Fledge. "Grab a basket, slowpoke! These peaches won't pick themselves."

In response, Fledge playfully hurled a peach back at Clyde. "If these peaches did pick themselves, we could have the day off," he mused. "Honestly, we could be enjoying that sweet, sweet mushroom soup and listening to more tales about past Crystalmuffinsdays. I love Crystalmuffinsday."

Clyde chuckled. "It doesn't surprise me that you're thinking about food right after a big breakfast. And mushroom soup in this heat? Come on, man! You'd eat anything—even rotten, moldy, nasty peaches."

Fledge grinned, knowing Clyde's teasing all too well. "I would, yes sir, and I wouldn't think twice about it!"

Mid-bite into a juicy white peach, Fledge changed the subject. "Are you entering the peach pudding eating contest this year?"

Clyde raised an eyebrow. "Have I ever?"

"No, but this could be the year!" Fledge's excitement bubbled over. "Now that we're eighteen, we're officially eligible for the pig chase. I could take home the quadruple crown!" Fledge usually dominated the eating contest, boasting the best bird costume and winning the "most holiday cheer" award.

Clyde smirked. "I'm glad this is a big year for you."

"But come on, won't you pig chase with your brother?" Fledge prodded.

Clyde feigned anxiety. "The thought of an entire village chasing hundreds of pigs for an hour? Gives me the jitters. Besides, Mom said they didn't actually chase a pig on the first-ever Crystalmuffinsday."

Fledge interjected, "It was Keesho who chased the pig!"

Koa, returning with water, piped up. "Who's Keesho, if you don't mind?"

"Mr. Holiday spirit will tell you," Clyde teased.

"Keesho," Clyde explained, "is a giant bird, thousands of years old. It perches atop the mountain, birthed Heartwood Village by bringing water down, and created a river to nourish the pale peach trees along the mountain's base."

Koa's eyes sparkled. "I love origin stories!"

Clyde rolled his eyes. "Still, this year, I'm sticking to my bird costume and decorating our family's Erstwhile Pole."

Fledge dramatically slapped his forehead. "Woodcarving? That's the most boring part of the entire weekend!"

Clyde shot back, "I'm relieved you're not dramatic or anything." He and Koa laughed, returning to their peach-picking duties.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Heartwood Village, the trio gathered around Clyde’s familial Erstwhile Pole. Its gnarled wood stood tall, adorned with intricate carvings that told tales of the past.

Clyde meticulously placed twinkling lanterns along the pole's branches. "Woodcarving might be mundane," he admitted, "but it connects us to our ancestors. Each stroke of the knife carries their memories."

Fledge, still sprawled in the grass, watched Clyde work. "You're right," he said. "I guess I’m constantly too focused on the festivities."

Clyde laughed and chimed in, “and the food.”

“Food would fall under festivities, Clyde,” Fledge responded playfully. 

Koa leaned in, her eyes wide. "Clyde, Fledge, will you all tell me more about Keesho," she asked.

Clyde obliged. "Well, legend has it that Keesho is the Great Wind Spirit and she guards the mountains that surround us. Her feathers shimmer like moonlight, and her eyes hold secrets. Some say she weaves dreams into the wind like songs that flow through your windows in the night, whispering forgotten stories to those who are lucky enough to hear it."

Koa sat up, intrigued. "And the pig chase?" she asked. "Why do you do it?"

Fledge grinned. "Because tradition demands it! But beyond that, it's a reminder that unity matters. We chase those slippery pigs together, laughing and stumbling, just like our ancestors did."

Koa's gaze shifted to the distant mountain. "I wonder if Keesho approves," she mused. "Maybe she watches you all, and is amused by your antics."

As the lanterns flickered to life, casting patterns on the ground, Clyde turned to Fledge. "Well," he declared, "this year, I'll join you in the pig chase, Fledger. And maybe—just maybe—I'll find a way to honor Keesho while sliding around in the mud."

And so, under the star-studded sky, the three friends laughed and dreamed. Crystalmuffinsday approached, promising magic, mystery, and the warmth of shared traditions.