Humans had just begun their exploration of space, they'd not yet met any other species. The first, early, days of human space travel. A kind and gentle elderly woman, who lived alone on a farm far into the countryside, found a very large, odd-looking, "bird" gathering seed from the open feeder she had and they seemed shaky and unwell. When they collapsed, she hobbled outside, loaded them onto the flat part of her walker, and hobbled back inside. Imagine their shock when the old woman was gently singing to them, giving them sips of water, and their wing was bandaged, and all the grandmother wanted in return was a quiet afternoon talking to a new friend. -- DaniAndShali
The claim of "first" is always a nebulous concept. Just ask the people who add it to the bottom of amusing video hosting sites. The first person to discover a distant land full of "uncivilised" natives never ask the natives about who was the first of them to set foot on that land. Or who might have already been there when they arrived.
Such as it is with the "first" encounter with Humans. The Sol system is a surprising font of one-way wormholes. Approximately five minutes after Humanity realised what was going on with them, they immediately used them for disposing of the unwanted sorts. Sending like groups of people down deep time so they could flourish or perish on their own merits. Some deep time colonies arrived centuries before others who were sent earlier. It's all concerned with FTL, relativity, and Humanity's natural egotism.
There are Human colonies that have been in existence for millennia before Humans first landed on the moon. It's complicated. Add technically-timetravel to anything and it definitely gets complicated[1]. Who got in touch with whom and when is very complicated. History is twisted into a pretzel and many ways of logging it involve notes like (Subjective) and (Relative) years. This one is one of the top ten contenders for the First Contact with Humans.
Maisy liked the wild birds, and she enjoyed her homestead. She could decide for herself who worked for her and how things went and didn't need to bother with anyone who gave her crap. Part of her day involved filling the feeders with various foods just so she could sit on the porch and watch the wildlife gather for it all at the end of the day.
The big one came as something of a shock. Sure, she'd seen some big birds on her homestead, but they were all at a distance and most folks thought she was crazy if she talked about them. Loads of folk out in the wilderness saw all kinds of things. Lights in the sky. Weird critters. Giant birds. Some fellow up on over the other ridge by the river swore blind he'd seen a chupacabra.
This time, the big bird was a heck of a lot closer than normal. Must have found something solid the wrong way, because Maisy could see it lying on the ground and not doing an awful lot. Weird thing, too... it was wearing clothes.
Animals didn't wear clothes unless people put them on. At first, she assumed it was someone's pet. A completely different homesteader over the other ridge had an ostrich farm, last she heard. It wasn't that big a stretch to figure a pet one had got into trouble.
Maisy let the critter see her approach, and slowed herself when it showed signs of distress. "There now, there now," she singsonged. "Good birdie. Good birdie... You need helpin' and I am to do that. It's all okay... Good birdie." Slowly and carefully, Maisy approached. Help the big bird drink.
Weirdest bird she ever did see. It had teeth. It had weird little hands in its wings. Most important, it had a dang dog trap on its left leg. Maisy sighed away her anger and made a mental note to fire a round of rock salt into Carl's backside. She'd had a lot of trouble from Carl trying to capture other people's hounds and she had told him her property was a no hunting zone. Now was not the time for that, though. She could get her payback later.
Step one, remove the dog trap, render it safe, and put aside so she could cram it down Carl's throat at a later date. Check. Step two, inspect the wound. If the leg was broken, it was still in place, so it would need a splint. But first - clean, disinfect, and bandage the wound.
"Damnit Carl," she singsonged, so as not to alert the bird with her ire. "I keep telling you these things hurt the other critters in these parts. I'm going to document all of this and make you see every last gory dang detail every time you say these traps are harmless. And the very next one I find on my property, I'll make you eat the dang thing..."
A light touch and careful attention later, Maisy was dragging the bird home on an improvised travois. There was something beyond 'bird' behind those eyes. Most birds didn't have much in the way of brains, but this one... this one was watching her, like it was trying to figure something out. There was something about the chirps and clicks it was using, too. Some rhythm to it that wasn't the usual series of birdcalls. It sounded a heck of a lot more complicated than the locals complaining that the seed feeder was empty again.
It was why she put the bird on her couch, instead of the table. It was why she offered water in tableware bowls instead of the stainless steel ones she had for the critters.
Then she got on the comms and called for the smartest doctor in easy traveling distance because she knew she was out of her depth. During that time, this bird had wrapped itself up in her throw rug. On purpose.
Maisy knew a few things. Offer warm things. Offer a simple array of things. Chicken? No. White fish rarely disagreed with folks. Fat bacon. Seeds. Nuts. Milk.
Well. Birdie had tech. Maisy watched Birdie consult something from a pocket before they made their selection. Birdie also had utensils.
Maisy knew without a doubt that the doctor could be trusted to help, but if any other yahoos in her neck of the woods heard about clever birdies like this one, then some idiots were bound to go hunting. Too many idiots, not enough rock salt rounds for her shotgun.
They didn't speak the same language. Maybe they could understand pictograms.
"This is you," said Maisy, drawing a primitive pictogram of her bird friend. "This is the trap. Trap hurt you. I help," she added herself to the pictograms. With a big smile on her face. "Doc's coming to help. Doc good," She drew a man in a white coat and added a smile to his face. "Other people bad. Set traps." Her portrait of Carl had a frown and a trap in his hand.
She finished with a picture of a person with a trap, with a very distant group of birdies flying away from the trap figure. "You and yours are better off well away from other people." For emphasis, she ripped the paper, freeing the birds from the page of origin and moved them like a puppet far, far away from the picture of the human with a trap.
There was light in those eyes, it was true, but there was no way to tell if they understood everything.
Doc, bless him forever, took in everything at once and announced, "Well, there's a new one." He got out his tech and got to it. Announcing discoveries as he went. "Well, they ain't from around here. They ain't from when our ancestors seeded this world. Some reckon it can happen, but I ain't never seen nothing to prove it. Little lady's got a mesh of spiderweb fractures in that leg... I can put a proper brace on it and give her a walking aid. Aluminium one for the kiddies'll do it."
"Should I kill Carl?" Maisy asked.
"Nah, just hurt him real good. He can't learn when he's dead."
They saw Birdie off the next morning, after teaching her how to test the ground for traps. Doc found one they missed and cussed about it. After that, it was all hope and zippered lips. And putting some hurt on Carl.
Doc hung around for dinner and a yarn or three. Sitting by the fire and not really looking at anything, he said, "Hope they're friendly."
"Saw th' look in her eyes," said Maisy. "Whole time, she was hoping we were friendly. She was spit terrified of the lot of us."
"Best we can do is leave 'em alone," said Doc, accidentally echoing the sentiments of the planetary survey team that had found them.
[1] Begin with Einstein's theory of what time might look like as a person approaches the speed of light. As you move away from a clock, it appears to freeze between seconds. We know this. If you move faster than light, the clock appears to move backwards. That's how you can arrive at a planet millennia before the concept of space flight at all.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / code3rocco]
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I can see it now, the "birdie" scientist getting back to the survey team who'd seen their friend get carried off by the human and had already begun mourning thinking their friend was doomed, only to see their friend return with their injuries treated, carrying a gift the old woman and doctor gave them, and showing their friends how to check for traps from hunter humans. And a tale to tell of how some of the humans are really gentle.
"You will not believe it. I recorded everything. Some of these Deathworlders are not dangerous."
"Flarph, that is the specimen we observed firing weapons at a fellow of their species." ::shows footage::
"Oh shit, that's Carl!"
Heh, and her going "They're strong enough to take THAT kind of weapon, it just hurts them, it didn't hit where it would kill them. That was punishment for setting out traps that hurt us." Then goes on to talk about the doctor to the medic treating their injury?
Carl deserves some hurt.