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The Walkerville Marsh Nature Preserve was one of Carlos’s favorite spots to go bird-watching. Every chance he got, he paid the marsh a visit. After all, the marsh was special to him. A few years earlier, he and the rest of Ms. Frizzle’s class had convinced the town council not to build a new shopping mall where the marsh currently stood. Later, the swamp had been turned into a nature preserve. There were trails, a visitor center, and most importantly: boardwalks.
Today, Carlos was taking his two younger siblings, Mikey and Maria, to the nature preserve. He had taken them there before, but today’s visit was a special one. Today was the Walkerville Sandhill Crane Festival!
"I've never been to a sandhill crane festival," said Mikey. "What's it like?"
"Well, remember when Dad took us to Comic-Con last year? It's like that, but for bird people," Carlos explained, slinging a small red-and-black backpack over one shoulder. Inside the satchel were the following items: a pair of binoculars, a notebook and pencil, a copy of "National Geographic Field Guide to the Birds of North America," a few granola bars, and a book of science-themed jokes. Carlos didn't need the joke book -- he had them all memorized-- but this one was a birthday present from Dorothy Ann. Ever since she'd given it to him, he had carried the now worn-out book wherever he went.
I wonder if she’ll be at the festival today,
he thought.
I think she would enjoy it.
“Ahem! Earth to Carlos, come in Carlos!”
“Wha— huh?” Carlos turned to see that Mikey was trying to get his attention. “Sorry, I just got distracted. You know, thinking about all the cool birds we might see! The huge flocks of cranes and geese! Tree swallows! Swamp sparrows!” This was only partly true, but Mikey did not need to know the entire truth.
He figured it out anyway. “You were thinking about D.A., weren’t you?” he said.
“What?! No!” Carlos felt his face getting very warm. He immediately pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head.
Looks like somebody has a crush,
Maria signed.
Yep,
Mikey agreed.
Every time I bring up D.A.’s name, he gets embarrassed. He doesn’t do this when I talk about any of his other friends.
“Are you two done talking about me?” Carlos asked.
Both younger siblings nodded.
A few minutes later, everyone was all packed and ready to go. The swamp was just a fifteen-minute drive from the Ramon family’s house, so it was an easy option for a weekend outing.
“Ready, Dad?” Carlos said as he buckled up in the front passenger seat.
“Ready,” said Mr. Ramon. “I hear everyone has been
raven
about this bird festival, if you know what I mean.”
“DAD.”
Just because Carlos was the bearer of bad jokes in his class, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to groan at his dad’s puns.
“Bird puns, huh? This conversation could take an interesting
tern,”
he replied, as soon as he was done rolling his eyes.
Meanwhile, in the back seat, Mikey and Maria were conversing in American Sign Language. Mikey had his headphones in, and Maria had turned her hearing aids off. Neither of them could hear their dad and older brother joking around.
So… do you really think we’ll see any of Carlos’s friends at the swamp?
Maria asked.
Mikey shrugged.
Hard to say. I hope we’ll see at least some of them. Maybe Tim will be there. Or Phoebe.
Or Dorothy Ann!
Maria added.
I hope she’s there.
Mikey looked up towards the front row to check that Carlos wasn’t paying attention. If he overheard this conversation.. Actually, “overheard” wasn’t the right word for a conversation in ASL.
Several bird puns and one ASL conversation later, the Ramon family arrived at the nature preserve. The parking lot was busier than usual, but they’d been able to find a nice, shady spot.
Mikey pushed a button, and the hydraulic lift holding him and his wheelchair lowered him out of the car. “All right, I’m ready to roll!” he said. That joke
never
got old. “Race you to the boardwalk, Carlos!”
“Oh, it’s on! I’m gonna beat you this time!”
As usual, Mikey won the parking-lot-to-boardwalk race, much to Carlos’s disappointment.
I never should have helped him make his wheelchair go faster,
he thought.
There were sandhill cranes
everywhere.
Huge flocks, all gathered in the muddy water, calling loudly with their rusty-gate sounds. Where there weren’t cranes, waterfowl and shorebirds were gathered by the dozen. Red-winged blackbirds filled the trees, and all kinds of other birds could be seen in the sky, on the ground, and in the cattail reeds. This was bird-watching heaven.
After walking for a few minutes, Carlos and his family came to a dry clearing. Normally, this clearing would be completely bare, except for some grass and shrubs, but today it was filled with tables, stalls, and stands. A big banner on one of the stands read “WELCOME TO WALKERVILLE’S 25th ANNUAL SANDHILL CRANE FESTIVAL.”
The first festival stand that caught Carlos’s attention was a display of incredibly detailed wildlife paintings. A pair of falcons perched on a skyscraper ledge. A bullfrog half-submerged and surrounded by lily pads. A bright blue-and-green dragonfly sitting on a reed. Somehow, the paintings looked alive, like the animals in them would jump or fly out of the frame if someone startled them. There was only one person Carlos knew who could paint like that.
“Tim!!!” he exclaimed, seeing the boy at the art table.
“Hi Carlos! It’s great to see you here!” Tim got up from his seat and gave Carlos a high-five. “How do you like my paintings?”
“Like them? I love them! This is some of your best work yet!”
“Thanks,” Tim said. “This is my first time selling my art here. So far, I’ve had quite a few customers.”
“That’s great!” said Carlos. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “And you’re about to have one more!”
“Okay, we have enough money for one big print or three small ones,” Carlos said to his siblings. “What do you want?”
How about three small ones?
Maria signed.
“Yep. Three small art prints,” Mikey agreed. “I think I’ll get the painted bunting.” He pointed to a picture of a small, bright red-and-blue bird with green wings.
I like the frog.
Maria pointed to the painting of the bullfrog and water lilies.
Which one do you want to get, big bro?
“I want the falcons,” Carlos answered aloud, while signing the same thing.
You already have a copy of that painting,
Maria observed.
I know that,
said Carlos.
I’m just getting an extra in case anything happens to the other one.
Maria raised an eyebrow.
Liar. You’re getting the picture for Dorothy Ann.
Carlos made an effort not to yell at his sister in sign language. If there was one thing he’d learned from having a deaf family member, it was that it was not only possible, but very easy to yell in sign language. It was all in the hands.
“All right, we’ve made our decision,” he said to Tim. “Three small prints: bullfrog, painted bunting, and peregrine falcons.”
“That’ll be twenty dollars,” said Tim, as he handed Carlos the art prints.
“Here you go!” Carlos pulled two ten-dollar bills out of his wallet and handed them to Tim.
“Thanks for visiting!” Tim gave him another high-five.
“No problem, dude!”
After leaving Tim’s art stand, Carlos and his siblings explored the rest of the festival grounds. There were snacks, craft stands, drawing lessons, you name it . And right near the edge of the marsh, several birders had set up their spotting scopes and cameras to watch the huge, noisy flocks of cranes.
Upon getting to the observation area, Carlos stopped to listen to the various birdcalls. He heard the cranes’ cacophonous calls, sounding like a metal gate that hadn’t been oiled in years. In the distance, a red-winged blackbird sang his reedy song. A flock of tree swallows chirped and whistled as they flew. The other swallows had left for the tropics several weeks earlier, but the tree swallows would be here until late November.
Suddenly, Carlos heard a birdcall that reminded him of the laser sound effects in one of Mikey’s old video games.
Northern Cardinal,
he instinctively identified it.
But I don’t usually find them in this habitat.
Then, he remembered something.
That’s no cardinal!
The cardinal call repeated. Carlos answered with a high-pitched, two-note whistle:
Fee-bee!
At that moment, he spotted the source of the cardinal call. It was Phoebe.
“Hi, Phoeb!” he exclaimed. “Seen anything interesting?”
Phoebe had in fact seen lots of interesting things. “See for yourself!” she said, stepping away from her spotting scope.
Carlos put his eye up to the scope, and saw more waterbirds than he could count. Wood ducks, green-winged teals, pintails, killdeer plovers, sandpipers, and coots. Or as his dad called them, “mud hens.”
“Whoa, this is really cool!” he said. “I’ve never seen this many waterfowl in one spot!”
“Isn’t it amazing?” said Phoebe, writing in her bird journal. “I even saw a green heron earlier!”
Now this was something.
“Where? Where did you see it?” Carlos asked. “Is it still there?”
“I saw it over there, near the dead tree,” Phoebe told him. “Chances are, it’s probably flown off to its roost— wherever that is.”
“Awww, too bad.” Carlos had been excited to see the heron. He didn’t often see green herons, even in the nature preserve.
“Come on, let’s go look for more birds,” said Phoebe. With her wide-brimmed hat and olive-green vest, she looked ready for adventure.
And so they set off down the boardwalk, field guides and binoculars in hand.
Bird-watching with Phoebe was always fun. She knew all the best spots, and practically had her field guide memorized. She and Carlos had even come up with a way to signal each other by imitating birdcalls. That way, they could get each others’ attention without disturbing the birds they were watching. However, the secret bird code wasn’t completely foolproof.
Fee-bee! Fee-bee!
came a clear, high-pitched whistle.
“What is it, Carlos? Did you find something?” Phoebe asked.
“That wasn’t me,” Carlos answered. “Look over there!” He pointed to a low-growing shrub where a small grayish-brown bird was perched. As the bird flicked its tail up and down, it sang the same two notes over and over:
Fee-bee! Fee-bee! Fee-bee!
“An eastern phoebe! My favorite bird!” Phoebe whispered excitedly. “I’ve got to get a picture.” She pulled out her camera and started snapping away.
Meanwhile, Carlos opened his bird journal and began writing.
Date: October 14th.
Time: Late afternoon.
Weather: Cool and overcast, slight breeze from the west.
Location: Boardwalk trail at Walkerville Marsh Nature Preserve.
Birds spotted: Eastern phoebe, wood duck, red-winged blackbirds, sandhill cranes, killdeer, greater yellowlegs, tree swallows, Canada geese. Cranes are gathered here in the hundreds, or even thousands.
Notes: This is the migration season for most birds. The cranes spend every winter here, but they arrive during mid to late fall. The tree swallows will probably be on their way to the tropics by late November.
He was so focused on taking notes and sketching birds that he didn’t notice that someone else was sitting next to him.
“Hey, I thought I might find you here.”
Carlos nearly jumped out of his socks. “D.A.! Don’t startle me like that!” he exclaimed.
“Sorry,” D.A. said, suppressing a smile.
“... That’s okay. But what are you doing here?” Carlos asked, trying to regain his composure. If anyone else—
especially
his siblings— caught him looking like a spooked owl, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Nothing really. I just came here to enjoy the festival and look for birds. What about you?”
“Pretty much the same as you. But this is the first time I’ve taken my siblings to the festival.”
“That’s great!” said D.A. “Where are they?”
“They’re probably back over at the spotting scope with my dad,” said Carlos. Then he looked over at the place where the scopes were set up.
Mr. Ramon was there, talking to another adult, but Mikey and Maria were nowhere to be seen.
Where’d they go?
“Forget bird journaling.” Carlos stuffed his notebook back into his bag. “I’ve got to find my brother and sister!”
And that could take a while.
Fortunately, both D.A. and Phoebe were willing to help.
After several minutes of searching (and one visit to the pretzel stand), they found Carlos’s siblings by one of the educational tables.
“What were you thinking, sneaking off like that?!” Carlos tried not to raise his voice. “You could have gotten lost, or hurt!”
Mikey shrugged. Maria made the sign for
I don’t know.
“Well… I was just exploring,” Mikey said. “And I found something.” He held a postcard in one hand. On it was a painting of two falcons.
Shoot. I must have dropped that,
Carlos thought. He took the postcard. But before he could put it in his backpack, D.A. spotted it.
“I like the colors in that picture,” she complimented. “They’re very pretty.”
“Thanks. I got it at Tim’s art stand.”
Mikey nodded. “Even though he already has a copy at home.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!
Carlos signed.
Mikey did not shut up. “I’m pretty sure this one is supposed to be for someone else,” he said.
SHUT. UP.
Stop talking. Now.
Too late. “And I think that ‘someone else’ is you, D.A.”
Carlos once again felt his face get warm. As soon as he got home, he was going to go hide in his room and not come out for the rest of the night.
But what about the postcard?
Reluctantly, he handed it to Dorothy Ann. “Here. You can have it. I was going to save it for a special occasion, but…”
“You don’t need to wait for a special occasion, you crowbrain,” D.A. said. “And besides, this IS a special occasion!” She put the postcard in between the pages of her field guide, then put it in her book bag. “Oh! I almost forgot! I’ve been meaning to give you this.” She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out… a rock.
“It’s a rock,” Carlos observed. “You got me a rock.”
“Not just any rock,” D.A. corrected, and handed it to Carlos. “Turn it over.”
Carlos took the rock and flipped it over in his hands. On the other side was an imprint of a spiral-shaped shell. An ammonite fossil.
“I found it at the Saddle River quarry,” D.A. explained. “I already have one of my own, so I thought I’d give this one to you.”
“Thanks, D.A. I’ll put it with my other fossils when I get home.” Carlos put the ammonite fossil in his coat pocket. He was just about to leave, when D.A. nearly squeezed the air out of him in a hug. He returned the gesture.
Neither of them noticed Phoebe, Mikey, and Maria high-fiving and silently cheering.