The Young Men Fly South

Doctor Winslow, a leading professor in Ornithology in the 1910’s decides to tutor a student looking to switch major.

Chapter 1

At first glance, the increasing numbers outside Winslow’s seminar seemed unfit for an end of year lecture. Before even entering the hall, he took in the crowd of students waiting outside the lecture hall, when they caught a glimpse of Winslow, he was met with whispers and glances, they clearly weren’t here because of his recent study. They stared curiously at him, as if they had never seen a middle aged German before. Among the students was an older man handling bulky camera equipment, he fiddled with the camera before handing the camera to another student sitting down. Next to the seated student was a stack of papers with headlines detailing declarations from the central powers marking the so-called Great War. 

	As he walked down the steps of the theatre, the students followed behind him, some clearly didn’t belong in this class. Settling his bag by the desk, he faced towards the blackboard, swiftly writing, “Biology: Pattern Behaviour of Birds” before following the title with his own academic title, “Dr. Winslow”. Before he could so much as even greet his class, he was met with a bright flash from the top of the hall. Taking a glance up the hall, Winslow noticed the young man from before clutching onto the camera, with a focused expression. Why was he so high up? Winslow thought to himself. 
	“Good afternoon class, it appears we have some new faces”, he announced, “for              those who don’t know me, I am Dr. Edward Winslow, I am a leading professor in biology and I primarily focus on the physiology and migration patterns of birds”.
The class was silent, only their focus wasn’t derived on the lecture but rather on Winslow himself. The odd glances and side eyeing of fellow students around the lecture hall continued for a moment before a student raised their hands. 
	“Do we have any questions before we start-”,
	“Twelve hundred innocents drowned in September from German torpedoes” A student shouted from the far side of the hall, his voice coming from hostility rather than empathy. Turning around to make a statement, Winslow was met with another flash from the camera, choosing to ignore it, he continued. 
	“This is a lecture on Ornithology, no comments will be made about current events today unfortunately”. 
This response was met with a cacophony of whispers and mutters as the attention of his students was beginning to dwindle. 
	“I understand the threats of war might scare you, however, I am merely a college professor, so if you have any questions regarding the lecture, I will be more than willing to answer them”, Winslow replied.
Silence filled the room, a solitary hand was raised from the far back, it was the young man, he slowly lowered his camera down, there was a look of intent behind him.
“Yes, what is it?” Winslow asked. 
“How do birds carry their weight in the air?” the man asked.  
The hall erupted in laughter, Winslow assumed he was attempting to ridicule his lecture, but yet the young man kept his gaze of intent.
	“Settle down people”, Winslow exclaimed, slapping his hand against the chalkboard, “Yes well, one of many factors is that birds are capable of lifting their weight in the air thanks to their hollow bones, allowing them to be much lighter”.
Aside from the young man who listened attentively to Winslow's words, the other students grew more disinterested as the lecture moved forward with some even walking out. 

The lecture concluded after an hour, and the students exited the hall, packing his things, he wondered if he had reached a single person with his studies. The only people who remained outside the lecture was the journalist and the young man who was leaning against the wall, his hand held firmly on the table next to him. Before Winslow could walk away, the excitement in the young man’s eyes returns and he calls out to Winslow. 
        “Ah, excuse me, Dr. Winslow”, he exclaimed. 
Winslow turned around to see the young man shuffle over to him, cane in one hand. Every step seemed like a struggle as a mix of discomfort and excitement rushed over the young man’s face. 
	“My name- my name is Marcus, I’m with the local paper, I’m also a student here,” He said, sticking out his hand, “I took your photographs today”.
Reaching out to shake his hand, Winslow notices that Marcus’s hands were almost limp.
	“Yes, yes, I noticed. You asked me the question about how birds can fly. Are you studying biology yourself Marcus?” Winslow asked. 
	“Well, technically I’m a first year in engineering but I was hoping to ask you about-”
	“Ah, Dr. Winslow, what a delightful lecture!”, a voice exclaimed, “Folan, editor of the local paper”.
Folan’s shoes clicked against the floor upon every step before lightly tapping Marcus’s shoulder.
	“I see you’ve met my son”, he continued, “He’s always been interested in birds, once he fell down from a tree just to get a look at a nest.”
Marcus stared down at his feet as Folan continued.
	“So you're a leading biologist is that right?” Folan asked. 
	“Well, Ornithologist technically, but-”.
	“Come, come, we have questions to ask”, Folan interrupted
Folan guided Winslow to the table as Marcus was left clutching onto his cane. He kept quiet for the rest of the evening, occasionally fiddling with the camera. 

	A week had passed since that altercation, and the numbers in his lectures slowly began to return to normal although his mistreatment stayed the same. When Winslow would greet his office neighbours, they’d respond with a nod before continuing their work, he’d even heard talk of his classes getting cut. So he remained in his office, inside were heaps of papers from students to be corrected and research notes. His office was on the third floor and he was given a window to let in the breeze, something Harry, a Robin he was taking care of, could appreciate. While he was in the midst of feeding Harry, there was a knock on the door. The receptionist entered.
	“Yes, what is it?” Winslow asked.
	“There’s someone here to see you,” the receptionist replied.
	“A student?”
The receptionist nodded.
	“My office hours are over I’m afraid”, Winslow replied.
The receptionist winced.
	“Are you sure? He came all the way from the ground floor”
	“What do you mean?” Winslow asked confusedly.
“He’s-”, she paused, “He’s barely able to walk.”
Winslow turned to the receptionist. 
	“I see” he said, getting up slowly, “well let him I suppose”.
The receptionist nodded before fully opening the door, revealing Marcus who was standing there all along. He briefly thanked her before closing the door after himself.
	“Being crippled has its perks”, Marcus remarks, “but really, the third floor. It was as if God himself was trying to stop me from getting here”. 
Winslow slowly got up from the floor and took a seat behind his desk, leaning into the chair. 
	“Marcus, from the local paper, correct? What can I do for you? If your father is asking for my opinion on this war to end all wars nonsense then tell him I still remain silent”. 
Marcus smiled before opening his bag,
	“He doesn’t know I’m here”, he continued, “I figured you might want to be the first to see this”
Marcus smiled as he handed out the newest edition of the paper. Flicking through the pages, Winslow saw his article. He was caught off guard by the quality of Marcus’s photography. The photos taken displayed Winslow with an assertive look as he discussed the topic. The photo showed the backs of dozens of heads all watching Winslow, if you didn’t know any better you would think they were paying attention to him.
	“These are impressive Marcus”, Winslow remarked. 
Marcus smiled,
	“Thank you, you’d be amazed at how good things can look from up high”. 
A squeak from Harry caused Marcus to look over before shuffling over to the cage, he continued.
	“And who is this?”
	“That would be a stray Robin I took in, he’s unable to properly fly”.
	“I see, I see”.
Marcus shuffled over and leaned against the open window, his back towards the open breeze. As Marcus flicked through the paper and took notice of the headline, it contained an image of a bomber plane flying overhead with a title speculating an oncoming attack. Winslow scoffed at the image.
	“Not even a decade since the Wright brothers conquered the sky and we’ve already used it for this”, said Winslow, flicking his free hand against the page. 
	“That would be an article from my father, he fears the worst for everything” Marcus replied. 
Winslow shut the paper and rolled it up, before sighing. As Marcus took in the breeze, he looked at his cane that leaned against the wall, how could he hand out papers in his state?	 “Why are you really here Marcus?” Winslow asked. 
Marcus laughed, before looking at Harry who was staring at the open window. 
	“Well, to put it simply, I want to switch my major to biology”, Marcus replied, “And maybe even someday ornithology.
	“Well then go to the main office and apply for a transfer”
	“I’m required to write a letter of recommendation and supplementary classes, and I was hoping- I was hoping for you to be my tutor?”
Winslow stared at Marcus, surprised by the request. Taking a glance at Harry who was still looking at the open window, he nodded. 
	“I will assist in any way I can, however, I cannot guarantee much, are you available during the summer?”
Marcus smiled gleefully.
	“We live in the town near the university, my father would never let me study out of county” Marcus remarked
	“I can organise tutoring classes over the summer so-”
	“Thank you thank you, I promise I won’t waste your time”, Marcus interrupted.
	“You can begin by attending my intro classes, and we will see to it the rest, off you go now”. Winslow insists. 
As he makes his way to exit, he pauses upon reaching the door. 
	“What is it? Do you need help getting back down?” Winslow asked. 
	“Enough, I’m fine- I’m fine.”

Chapter 2

Summer time greatly affected the University, professors began to receive an increasing number of students deferring their spots in order to enlist. The campus was quieter as the sight of students and scholars were few and far between. The upper university councils decided to slash funding on multiple courses due to the lack of students, among these was Winslow’s, who saw a large portion of his research team be made redundant. When he confronted the upper departments regarding the matter, he was told that they were lucky he was even still employed as a professor, although one might question if it was really regarding budget cuts. 

	The only thing working in Winslow’s favour was his tutoring of Marcus. He would arrive twice a week for one on one sessions. At the start, Marcus struggled with his studies as he learned to let go of engineering. Occasionally, Winslow would let him take a dip into the field of Ornithology. Winslow started with bird migration, a field he was researching, Marcus seemed to pay extra close attention to these topics, until they discussed anatomy. When Winslow would explain the details of anatomy in certain birds, Marcus would delve into the logistics of airplanes and compare the two. Winslow imagined it as he was converting Marcus to an alternate world.
	“-The wings aren’t the only forms for steering for certain species, some are even capable of using-”
	“Their tails?” Marcus asked.
Winslow paused, and gave a funny look.
	“That’s correct, how did you know that?” he asked. 
	“Pilots use the rudders in the tail fins in order to steer the plane”.
Marcus slowly looked up at Winslow, he had a smirk on his face,
	“I wasn’t aware of that”, Winslow replied.
From thereon began multiple sessions in which Winslow and Marcus would compare aviation of birds and planes. They sank dozens of hours during the hot summer weeks discussing the similarities and differences until they’d find even ground. 
	“Listen Marc, planes require a runway and build up to take off the ground because of their fixed wings. Birds are capable of taking off from thrust and bending their wings”
Marcus was swiftly jotting down every word coming from Winslow’s mouth. Winslow placed a bit of feed into Harry’s cage before packing his bag.
	“Giving up already?”Marcus asked, smirking. 
	“Pack your things, we’re going,” Winslow replied. 

	A field trip to the beach was a good idea in theory. As Marcus struggled to walk along the uneven terrain of jagged rocks and soft sand, Winslow had to keep him upright as they made their way along the coast. They took a seat on the ground facing the gushing waves, the beach was calm for summer. Aside from the occasional passer-by, the only other visitors apart from Winslow and Marcus were the wisps of sandpipers. They sat still and watched them feed off the sand.
      “The likes of Sandpipers can be found foraging in the sand”, Winslow exclaimed.
      “That’s interesting and all but what does this have to do with taking off into flight?” Marcus asked.
      “Just wait”
In a brief second, the waves pulled in and dozens of Sandpipers took off into the air to avoid the water. They flew around each other in a ball before landing back down when the waves pulled in. Marcus, in awe, watched this process repeat several times, waves crashing in, birds flying out.
	“It must be nice being in the air”, Marcus said, “When I was a kid, I was fascinated by birds, I wanted to be one, I wanted to fly. My father encouraged me to study Engineering and hopefully one day become a pilot as well".
The birds flew out into the sky again, Marcus continued. 
	“But as I got older, I became more ill, and I started to realise that I could never be a pilot in this condition”, he said, nudging his cane. “The more I studied the more I realized that I'll help create flying machines made to hurt people rather than fascinate them”, he paused. “Your lecture all those months ago reminded me there were other ways to appreciate the sky”. 
Winslow recalled the lecture as a failure, and yet he had somehow reached one singular student. The birds landed and began to forage. Giving Marcus a smile, he gently pats his back, they take in the sandpipers one last time before moving on.

	The final two weeks of summer were spent preparing for the Academic year, when Winslow wasn’t tutoring Marcus or researching what he could, his remaining time was spent planning timetables and organising texts. One morning deep into his research he gets a knock on the door. Expecting to see Marcus at his door, the receptionist slowly opened the door and let in Mr Folan. Winslow swiftly closed his books and got up to greet him. 
	“Ah, Mr Folan, What do I owe the pleasure” said Winslow, reaching his hand out.
Folan shook his hand before turning to Harry’s cage and bending down to see eye to eye with Harry, who cowered away from Folan’s face.
       “It's a pleasure indeed Doctor, did you enjoy your article on the paper”, Folan replied. He tugged at the door of Harry’s cage making sure it was secure, before shutting the window, his silhouette obstructing any natural light that tried to enter the room. 
      “It was an honour, really”. Winslow exclaimed. 
Folan let out a deep sigh and looked up slowly at Winslow. 
	“I’ll cut to the chase, you mustn’t see my son anymore”. 
Any attempt Winslow made to speak was cut short from shock.  
	“I understand you’re only trying to help my son, and I commend you for it, “ Folan continued, “however, his illness is only getting worse, he doesn’t need this as of right now”.
	“I’ve only been teaching him introduction level classes Mr. Folan”.
He let out another deep sigh, and put his hand to his eyes before looking back at Winslow.
	“Do you recall the story I told you about when Marcus climbed a tree to see a nest?” Folan asked.
	“Vaguely, yes”, Winslow replied. 
	“He wasn’t trying to see a nest, that’s just what we told him when he woke up, he climbed the tree and jumped because he was convinced he could fly”
Folan gazed at the floor, as if he were reliving this incident. 
	“If you keep feeding into his delusions, Winslow, all the progress we made could- it could go south”.
Folan shut the door behind him, Harry stood in the same spot, terrified. Winslow slowly sat down and stared at the closed window, he wondered if he should open it again, but decided against it. 

When the Academic year began in September, there was a shockingly low number of students on campus. The budget constraints meant that Winslow was only lecturing and tutoring in PHD and masters seminars. Most days were spent with Winslow sitting during office hours staring at the door and waiting, wondering if Marcus would come in, he would look at Harry who was quiet, stagnant even, only chirping against the autumn winds. Three weeks in, when Winslow had caught Marcus roaming the halls, he rushed up to him and stopped him.
	“Marc, where have you been, it’s been nearly a month” Winslow asked.
	“Forgive me Professor, I haven’t been in, no reason to be”, Marcus said.
He looked incredibly tired, with his face keeping the same look of discomfort he has when he’s walking. His tired eyes spoke for him.
       “You didn’t get the transfer did you?”, Winslow asked. 
Marcus looked down at the floor.
	“They said they needed students to stay in engineering because of all the people enlisting, I think they want me to stay professor,” Marcus continued, “-they want me to stay so that when I’m older, I can make those murdering machines”.
	“Marc, I’m sorry, I swear I had nothing to do with this.
	“It’s okay”, said Marcus with a smile, except it was only his mouth that smiled. He limped away.
Marcus was seen less and less during Autumn semester, even weeks went by without Marcus attending classes. 

Chapter 3

During a particularly long absence at the beginning of Winter, Marcus finally showed face on campus. Winslow was roaming the campus buildings in the afternoon, on his way to feed Harry when he saw Marcus, who was wheeling down the sidewalk opposite of him, he was bound to a wheelchair. His hair had grown significantly since the last he saw him and it looked as if every rotation of the wheels caused him great struggle. He was frail, his thin collar bones pressed against the skin on his neck when he turned. The tendons on his hands stuck out as white lines that contrasted with the veins under his pale skin. 
	“Marcus, what- what happened to you”, Winslow asked. 
	“Fell”, Marcus replied.
His voice was raspy, and he struggled to get word in, Winslow wondered if he really fell or if his condition was worse. 
	“I know you’re not in a stable condition but give me a moment of your time” Winslow pleaded, “Please Marc”.

	Winslow pushed Marcus’s wheelchair along the beach, his wheels wouldn’t rotate on the sand so they stuck along the walkways at the far end. Marcus’s neck was craned so he could watch Sandpipers as they walked. The waves crashed heavily against the sand, a noise so loud that it drowned out the chirps of the sandpipers. They could hardly count a dozen or so sandpipers left at the beach, the majority of them had already migrated south for better conditions. They stopped along the walkway so they would be in perfect view of the sandpipers, Winslow stood by Marcus’s side.
	“It’s good to be at the beach with you again Marc,” Winslow exclaimed.
Marcus didn’t answer.
	“I would like to resume our tutoring sessions again, even if you didn’t get the transfer”
Marcus didn’t answer.
	“I know you can’t reach my office anymore, I can bring the class to you if you like, I can even teach you right here”.
Winslow stood still, listening to Marcus’s steady breaths against the crashing waves, as he stared at the last of the sandpipers, they weren’t foraging anymore. Could he have done more? Taking one good look at Marcus, he stood in front of him.
	“Marcus, I know I stopped seeing you as often, but still, I was only trying to help you. There’s nothing I could have done if the Administration didn't accept your transfer. Even if I could, they’d hardly respect me for having German parents. But I will help you, I promise I will. What do you need?”
Marcus looked up and stared into Winslow’s eyes, something seemed off, it was as if he was staring behind his eyes, when he stepped aside, Marcus was still staring in that direction. Marcus was staring at the sandpipers flying in the air. 

	Winslow dropped Marcus off and made his way back to his office to pick up his things. As he walked past the receptionist, he noticed her engrossed in the local newspaper, curious to see what Folan had written he went up to her. 
	“Good Evening, could I have a look at that?” he asked.
She looked up at Winslow, smiled before wiping her eyes and handing him the paper.
	“Sure,” she said, sniffling.
Marcus took a look at the front page, it listed all the alumni of his university that had been confirmed dead in the last month. The poor fools, Winslow thought to himself. Promises of a better tomorrow if they went south, only to be met with reality. 

He left the newspaper by his desk, and opened the window. Harry was lying still, breathing steadily. Confused by this behaviour, he peered into the cage.
	“What’s the matter Harry?” he murmured to himself.
When he opened the cage door, Harry flew out of the cage and fluttered about until he soared out the window. The office was quiet, remaining where he was, Winslow stared at the window. After all the help I gave you, he thought to himself. He laughs to himself for a moment before returning to his desk.. 

	It had been a month since Marcus Folan went missing. The first week, Winslow suspected he had disappeared as usual. The second week, he had a visitor at his office, only it was the authorities who asked when I had last seen him. The third week he had been filed as a missing person. The fourth week, his wheelchair was discovered by the coast. Winslow was unsure of how to take the recent news, given his most recent encounter with Marcus at the beach, he wondered if this outcome was inevitable. He received that week's edition of the newspaper and flicked through it, there were the reports of those who passed away and more threats from opposing nations, and yet, nothing was written about Marcus. The only updates that Winslow received were from the authorities. 

	 The Folen’s household was only a story tall, it was in a quieter part of town. Surrounding the front garden were bristly hedges missing their leaves after the change in season. When he knocked on the door, he realised this was the first time he had ever gone out of his way to visit Marcus, typically it was him making his way to visit him. A few grunts were heard behind the door as it slowly opened, peering out from around the corner of the door was Folen, he had the same tired expression as Marc the last he saw him. 
	“May I come in?” Winslow asked. 

	The shutters in Folen’s kitchen were closed shut with only light escaping from the place illuminating the room. Folen opened a shutter and sat opposite Winslow.
	“Are you writing many articles?” Winslow asked.
	“I only report on the war now”. 
Winslow’s hands were glued to the table, he scoffed.
	“Is there anything else you should be reporting?” Winslow asked.
	“It’s my duty to report on the people who died fighting”
Folen looked everywhere but Winslow’s eyes. Winslow slammed his hand down on the table. 
	“Marcus fought everyday with his illness, and you kept him caged up, unable to let him fly free!”
Folen stared at the floor.
	“He thought he could fly”, Folen paused, “when we found out his bones were expanding and going brittle, his first thought was that he could fly”.
Folen lifted his head towards the ceiling. 
	“I thought I could help him, even stopping you didn’t help. It didn’t matter”.
Folen broke into tears, Winslow couldn’t even imagine this side of him even existing. He got up, patted him on the back. 
	“He’s not dead, Folen” Winslow said, “he’s just gone south”.

	Winter time came to an end and there were no updates on the whereabouts of Marcus. The weekly updates listing the deceased alumni or missing in action continued. The only thing to return were the birds. Winslow would walk along the beach and stare at the increasing number of sandpipers and seagulls. As he walked he noticed them bunching together in the sky, the shapes resemble people, eventually they grew in numbers as they all gathered together in groups, Staring up at the sky, Winslow imagined the migrating sandpipers as a battalion of soldiers returning from war, at the forefront was Marcus leading the soldiers back from the south.