As I sit, enjoying nature and everything it brings, I’m in awe. The trees have a gentle sway like a baby’s cradle. I feel the wind on my cheeks and nose. Leaves shake as the slight breeze snakes around the trees. The leaves are beginning to change color as the trees prepare for the cold Minnesota winter. There are, of course, the evergreens, unchanged and unfazed by the changing of the season. Bushes and shrubs cover the ground everywhere I look. Their branches are pretty well bare of leaves or buds. A chickadee flies in from above and lands on a red pine. I look at him, but he doesn’t look at me. He flies and lands on a birch nearby. Then back again. Free to come and go as he pleases.

He sits in the tree with his feathers ruffled from the wind. A black cap and back contrast the whitish-gray of his belly and face. Never completely still, he jumps along each branch like an excited little kid with too much energy. Most of the branches he lands on don’t even react to his moving. He can’t decide which branch he likes the best. The birch seems bright compared to all the other trees he lands on. Its smooth white bark with black patches matches his feathers almost to a “T.”  I think this is where he will land and stay for a while because of the camouflage this offers, but he chooses to keep moving. He jumps into a red pine next. Its needles are longer than he is. If need be, he could hide in them and it would be difficult for others to see him. I think he will leave, but he stays, picking first at his belly, then his back. He’s now comfortable in his new spot.

The chickadee has come to expect his freedom and takes it for granted. He doesn’t know what it means to be limited by rules or expectations. If I could do what I wanted, I would fly to be with my friends at any time or go anywhere I wanted. My parents always say that I went out last night so tonight I have to stay in. I hear “you had fun last night so you can’t tonight.” Sometimes it is very late, so they say I should just stay home and get some rest. I don’t want rest, I’m a teenager and I want--no-- I need to have some fun. From my perspective, he has it easy. Not always as fun, but easy. Free to go where he wants; the hardest part for him is deciding where to go. He could go to the top of a building, overlooking a lake with rolling waves and a green tint. In this spot he could watch fishermen catch fish left and right as they move along the shoreline, observing their every move. He could be the best fisherman around, but because of his size he is limited to flying, not fishing. He could be high in a tree next to a highway or on a barn at a farm. His life isn’t limited by rules or laws but only, instead, by his physical ability. The only thing on his mind is surviving and helping his family survive. He must keep hidden if there is a predator nearby, or be a distraction so his family can evade an attacker. Eating, sleeping, and hiding. Everything else is unimportant. There is ease in that but for me, enjoyment comes from doing extra things other than just living. Things like sports, hunting and hanging out with friends aren’t necessary but may as well be because without them, I don't know what I’d do with myself. I would love the flexibility to be able to do what I want and go where I want but I’d miss out on so much.

Freedom is a relative term.

Someone can be free to make his or her own decisions, but then there is more responsibility which can end up being more restricting. This year I will be going off to college and I will have many more freedoms. I will be free to choose what and when I eat first of all. If I want to, I can eat at 2 in the morning or breakfast every day for supper. I’m not saying I will, but I have the freedom to because my parents won’t be telling me when to eat or preparing meals for me. This could lead to bad eating habits later and I will have to manage my money for food. Another big change to the choices I can make is what time I wake up. If I don’t have class, I can stay in bed all day long if I feel like it, but it would come with consequences like not getting anything done and probably me gaining weight.

Just like the chickadee, I will have many freedoms next year, but will have to be responsible and make sure that I am enjoying my freedom without allowing it to cause problems. I don’t want to fall prey to the bad habits that may become more tempting once I am away from the rules of my parents and teachers.

I sit, still thinking of all he and I will have in common. We have a bond in this likeliness, even if he doesn’t think so. Landing for the last time on a branch near me, he sits steadily as the big oak gently sways. Bark presses against his tail feathers where he’s perched. As he sits, wondering where to go and what to do, his legs prepare for take off. A decision has been made. I watch him fly away. I look around, but he doesn’t come back this time.

He is free.