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The idea was sound, and we set to work with one hundred thousand pick-axes, three missives in fifteen million cc's (five each) in false cursive, a few model grandmothers exhibiting traces of Modernist urges, and the wherewithal to garner support among the birds themselves.
The basic theoretical questions had been the ones most intriguing to the average shopper. How many birds would submit to the plan? We already knew the answer, actually, but had let people run on about questions of number, size and range. Some said millions, some said one. The people who said one were interested in the shape of the nest, hoping to establish the kindliest dent in their own neighborhood or even right where they lived. The ones who said millions were ecologists, and were interested in the Hudson, the East River, and the accessibility of grasses. They felt that the best way would be to establish many different levels and qualities, many ideas in the physical plan, which would give any bird the greatest choice. A few pointed out that this sensibility gave hearty reception to the one-bird idealists, for each bird would in fact be the only bird to enjoy a certain combination of factors fully.
Would each bird find its place? Would they not do better with even, equal terrain? We ourselves had to introduce these ideas, circuitously, through the print media mostly, in hopes that the ecologists would get a bit harder and stomp out the one-bird fanaticos. This hasn't happened, of course, and we have had to plead issues of money, artificial in fact.
The idea was approved by a thousand of our experts and we brought in the grandmothers to go speak to all the old folks. "Modernism," they would say, "lives still in the functions of our first stabs at total literacy."
The missives were distributed, each of the three versions according to its style:
"Birds being what they are...."
"Many of you will follow eagerly these trends...."
"A year and half ago, in the fall of 1..0...."
The pick-axes cleared the land of its buildings, one by one, and the birdseed, of course, brought in some birds.
Birds of the most variable plumage! Grey, green, blue, red! Many birds, with different habits. Some of them preferred the space near the Hudson. Others preferred the spaces on either side of the East River. Many preferred the north parts, many the south parts. Many could be seen huddled in the interior mile of Manhattan Island, while others went as far inland as possible. A few floated on the waters seemingly always.
Elsewhere, in Kentucky, California, Michigan and Iowa, people were energetically noticing our work and hoping for better in their own environment. It wasn't lost on us that we had failed somewhat, but we thought it remarkable enough to deserve more than the miffed strivings of our historical juniors. In truth, Kentucky failed entirely despite a fertile soil. California did better but the stress on variety ended up killing off thousands of birds. Michigan and Iowa roughly equalled us.
Later, men, noticing our work, have described other things to their nieces and nephews