by Eric Smith
“He shuffles between live animal exhibits and lessons at the Academy of Natural Sciences and the Philadelphia Zoo for classroom visits.” He placed Milford back on his shoulder, and the owl nibbled at his ear. “Ow, come on, man. But for the most part, he’s here, in our raptor conservatory. Any other questions?”
“Does he have a fake wing?” Leila asked. She had to make sure. It had to have been him yesterday. “A prosthetic?”
“No, Milford doesn’t have a fake wing or a prosthetic,” he said drily. He was clearly lying. “Those wouldn’t work on an owl. Hell, they only work on people after lots of physical therapy. This isn’t How to Train Your Owl, you know?” he scoffed. “Anyway, I’m part of the Park Ranger Adolescent Training program, or P.R.A.T., a rather unfortunate acronym. Today we’ll be . . .”
Leila squinted, staring at him and back up at the owl, ignoring whatever he was going on about. She’d seen him yesterday. She was sure of it. It was the same owl, flying up and crashing down to the ground. He was the guy the voices were pointing her towards, and she had to figure out why.
“What’s How to Train Your Owl?” Mikey asked.
“It’s a movie reference.” Britt said, giving him a shove. “Well, a book and a movie. And a TV series, too. How did you get this far in life?”
“Oh, shut up,” Mikey muttered.
Leila turned to Britt and Mikey, who were smiling at each other.
“I’ll be taking you on your tour of the, the . . . Wait, where are we going today, anyway?” Landon asked, and pulled a small, black notepad out of his pocket. He flipped it open. His face scrunched up in irritation. He ripped out the piece of paper, crumpled it up, and lifted it up to the owl, who took it in his beak and tossed it away. The bit of paper fell on the ground, and Shawn scrambled to pick it back up. Landon flipped the notepad shut with an audible slap.
“The Shofuso house.” He sighed and shook his head. “Can I make some recommendations? Specifically one? Who wants to see more little guys like this one?” He nodded his head towards Milford, and a few hands shot up in the air amongst the group.
“Can we see more guys like him?” Sarika asked, whispering in Leila’s ear. Leila jumped. Sarika had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a cup of coffee in her hand, steam still rising from the holes in the lid.
“Where did you even come from?” Leila whispered back.
“I walked.” Sarika shrugged. “There’s a place called Mugshots not far from here. Hopped the bus, hung out there for a while, and strolled over. You have got to log on to the board, by the way. There’s all this drama—”
“So does that sound good to everyone?” Landon asked, a little too loudly. Leila looked up, and he was staring straight at her. She gulped and looked at Sarika, who in turn just kicked her.
“Yeah, sounds fine?” Leila ventured.
“Mm. Fine is right.” Sarika poked Leila, who nudged her away.
“Great!” Landon exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Then let’s go.”
They started walking away from the parking lot and into the woods. Leila looked around for Britt and Mikey, spotting them at the head of the swell of students. They were chatting to one another excitedly. She made a note to introduce Sarika to them later. Jon had said to try to meet some new people, make some new friends. Shawn was definitely out of the running, and there was obviously something else going on with him. She didn’t need that drama.
“So?” Sarika asked, nudging Leila as the two of them walked, taking small sips from her coffee. “Who is that? Catch me up.”
Leila shrugged. There were still some things she couldn’t tell Sarika. Not yet. The voices, their instructions. For now, Landon was just some guy with a bird.
“Some park ranger in training,” she whispered back. “I’m pretty sure he’s the guy I saw when I crashed my bike.”
“Really?”
“I mean, unless there’s some other local park ranger trying to teach an owl to fly.”
Landon turned and looked back at her again, wearing the expression of a teacher who was waiting for his class to be quiet. Leila looked away, pretending to stare at nothing in the trees around her, though it was hard to keep her eyes away from him. He obviously took a lot of care in his appearance, his uniform was crisp and well ironed. She stared at him as he spoke to the students up front and frowned as the students fiddled with their smartphones and took selfies. He looked up from the students and made eye contact with Leila again, and she jumped back with a jolt before realizing he was looking at someone behind her. He stopped and crossed his arms as Shawn angrily bounded up the trail, brushing by Sarika and Leila.
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t what we had planned today,” Shawn said, standing next to Landon. “We have plans at the Shofuso house, and they are going to be waiting for us.”
“This is better, trust me,” Landon said, turning back around.
Shawn reached out and grabbed Landon’s shoulder. Landon spun back around, his eyes boring into Shawn. He stood practically a foot taller than him, and Milford fluttered his single wing angrily.
“Don’t touch me again,” Landon said. “You don’t know me.”
“What, are you going to hit me?” Shawn smirked. “We have plans. You can’t just take everyone away and—”
Landon ignored him and headed back up the trail. Shawn reached out and grabbed his shoulder again, and Landon spun around, glaring down at Shawn.
“I’m not going to hit you. But if you touch me again, we’ll certainly have some words.” Landon crossed his arms.
“Oh please,” Shawn said. “My dad could get you fired.”
Landon took a step forward.
“Your dad? How cute. Look, I don’t get paid,” Landon grinned. “So, go ahead. Run to your pops. Say what you want to say. I’m not here for the money. I’m here for the park. For the animals. For the trees. What are you here for?”
“For the trees?” Shawn spat. “Who the hell are you, the Lorax?”
“Seriously? Is that really all you’ve got? That’s your comeback?”
A beat of silence followed, interrupted only by the sounds of the neighboring trees. A soft rustling whispered through the leaves, and a cool breeze danced around Leila’s neck.
Now you see?
Leila jumped, and looked at Sarika.
He’s here. For us. For you.
“It’s happening.” Leila whispered, closing her eyes. She felt Sarika grab her hand, and she closed her eyes and started to whisper to herself as the voices pressed. She pushed herself to get centered. To be here. To focus.
“Outside. Trees. Rocks.”
You can trust him. Go to him. Tell him of what you hear.
“Ground. Soil. Wind.”
“Leila,” Shawn’s voice said.
Leila opened her eyes, and Shawn was standing right in front of her with Landon behind him. “You understand, right?” Shawn asked. “You still up for the tea house? I think you’ll—”
“Get away from me,” Leila snapped, pushing Shawn out of the way. She stumbled a little into the brush, her head hammering as the voices grew louder.
He wears the colors of the caretakers.
An arm quickly wrapped around her, and she glanced up to see Sarika helping her gain her balance again.
“Are you okay?” Shawn burst in.
“Alright, what’s happening over here?” Landon walked over and looked over at Shawn, his eyes narrowing. “Is he bothering you two?” He reached for a walkie-talkie on his belt. “Do I need to call someone?”
“No,” Shawn said, walking away. “No, it’s fine. Go look at your old bird cages that should have been torn down a long time ago.”
“Wait, are we seeing the Raptor Trust?” Leila asked, looking up at Landon. As the voices faded away, she remembered what Jon had been rambling about in the kitchen the day before.
Apparently, Fairmount Park had a raptor habitat that was in danger of losing funding. If Landon was taking the group there, the place that she’d rode by when she saw him flying that owl around, maybe he could answer some questions for her. Maybe she could even help Jon out with a bit more background for his future articles. “That actually sounds kind of awesome.”
She exhaled and gave a reassuring nod to Sarika. The voices had faded.
“I wouldn’t trust them with a parakeet!” Shawn shouted, his back still turned as he walked away. “You all do you. I’m out of here.”
Leila steadied herself and pushed forward with Sarika as Landon walked back up to lead the group down the trail. The path pushed on through some lazy, low-hanging trees and brambles that shoved their way into the legs of passersby, until it opened up on a ramshackle bundle of small, cabin-like buildings. All that remained of the B.E.A.C. group was Sarika, Leila, and Leila’s two possible-new-friends Mikey and Britt. Leila shrugged at the small group. The dozen or so members who’d been milling around the parking lot earlier either went off with Shawn or had split off during all the drama.
Landon stopped the group in front of a large, barn-like building that stood taller than the rest of the smaller shed-like structures. He turned around to face everyone, hands on his hips, a smile on his face.
“Welcome to Philadelphia’s branch of the Raptor Trust,” he said with a proud smile. He turned to look at the buildings. “The original Trust was founded in Millington, New Jersey, and this branch opened a few years ago.” Leila pulled out her phone and began taking notes while Landon went on. “Feel free to explore the grounds. We’ve got a few hawks and kestrels, a couple of owls here and there. Some are in the middle of rehabilitation, others are un-releasable, and we care for them here thanks to our staff of volunteers. We work with different institutions in the city to educate people about them as much as possible.”
“Staff?” Sarika asked. Everyone turned and looked at her.
“Sarika,” Leila said, giving her a look.
“What?” Sarika asked. “There’s like, no one here.”
“Well, there’s one other caretaker here today,” Landon continued sadly. “But you’re right, staff is light. We’re likely to be closed down in the coming months if funding doesn’t go through, as the Fairmount Park system makes room for renovations and new construction. This site is poised to go. Rumor has it there will be a greenhouse or something. And then there’s the old Thomas Mansion, the gardens, and groves. It kind of sucks, all that history with no place in the future. People just don’t care.”
Leila.
Leila winced, moving her hand up to the pressure in her forehead. Sarika grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
He can help me. He can help us.
The voices. So much for the break, the distraction. Here they were, and they were being direct again, whispering on the wind, pushing against the inside of her head.
Come.
Leila shook her head, the pain rattling against her skull.
Come to the mansion. Come to me.
“Road. Path. Bushes. Grass,” Leila muttered. Sarika looked at her, and Leila returned the glance, her eyes wide, hoping she’d understand in the way that best friends do what was going on without her having to say anything. Sarika nodded. Of course she did.
“But, we’ll see!” Landon perked up. “Might save this place, might save the mansion and the grounds. Maybe someone cares. So go on, explore, and meet back here in, say, an hour or so? I’m pretty sure I can set up a showing of some of the raptors while you all look around.”
The students dispersed, but Sarika stayed by Leila’s side as they started to walk towards one of the big cages. They kicked up dirt and pebbles as they walked together; the area surrounding the Trust was a bit unkempt. Inside, a bronze-colored, large bird sat on a high perch, with an enormous branch twisting and turning its way up inside the cage. It looked like a huge piece of driftwood, plucked from the ocean and hammered into the ground, sticking up in the air, with holes throughout the trunk.
“That’s Liberty, our golden eagle,” Landon said, walking up behind Leila and Sarika. The little owl was still on his shoulder, eyes darting about curiously. “You know, because he’s bronze and rusty, kinda like the Liberty Bell, but not really. Tourists get a kick out of it, though.”
“What’s his story?” Leila asked.
“Well,” Landon began as he moved next to her. He glanced at her from the side, peering over the owl on his shoulder. The thin black beard on his face, shaved so close to his cheeks, chin, and upper lip, brought out the white of his teeth. “Someone was trying to keep her as a pet, and they ended up cutting the tips of her wings too short. Wing clipping, they call it. Sometimes people do that with small birds like parakeets, parrots, or lovebirds.
“It’s better than pinioning, at least, where they remove the wing joint. This way they just can’t fly away for a while, as opposed to leaving them grounded forever.” He looked up at the eagle, and his eyes seemed to light up when he talked about the bird.
“Unfortunately, whoever did the work on her cut way too much. We had to bandage them up when they dropped her off here. One had gotten a little infected. She’ll never fly again.” He sighed heavily.
“You can’t keep a creature like this as a pet,” he continued, his eyes wide and sad.
“Aren’t you kinda doing that, though?” Sarika asked.
“This is different. We’re keeping her safe,” Landon said, looking back at Sarika and Leila with noticeable irritation before he focused his attention back on the eagle. “Before they clipped her wings, the person was trying to use her like a falcon. You know, for sport and all that, training them to hunt. You can’t really do that with eagles. I mean, you can. People in the Middle East do that, nomadic people. It’s a symbiotic existence. But here? As a pet and a hobby, out in the suburbs of Philadelphia?”
He stared at the eagle for a while, a beat of silence passing between him, Sarika, and Leila, and then turned back to them.
“Hey, so, I don’t think I got your name?” He nodded, looking past the little owl again, who continued to look about before finally focusing on Sarika.
“Sarika,” she said, reaching a hand past Leila.
“Great to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. He looked at Leila and then back at Sarika. “And it’s Leila, yes? Can I, um, can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”
Leila looked over at Sarika, who raised her eyebrows, giving her a thoughtful look. She knew that look. It asked if she was going to be okay, despite what had just happened.
Leila gave her a quick nod, and Sarika smiled back at Landon.
“Well, I'm going to go look at . . . some birds . . . or something,” Sarika said. She gave Leila’s hand a reassuring squeeze and strolled off, turning behind the building.
“So,” Leila said, her heart quickening.
“So.” Landon nodded and then exhaled. “Look, I, um, I would like to apologize.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, listen.” Landon looked around, the little owl swaying with him as he did so, and then he turned to Leila, speaking in a soft voice. “I’m not supposed to be out, well, trying to fly Milford out here. Or, um, anywhere, really.” He scratched the back of the owl’s head and sighed. “What you saw the other day . . . I wanted to run over and help you, but by the time I wrangled Milford up here and he’d calmed down enough for me to move anywhere, your boyfriend—”
“Ha!” Leila interrupted.
“Okay, so your friend from this club of yours,” Landon continued, shrugging. “It seemed pretty under control and all, with a couple of people huddled around you, and the ambulance down the block. It doesn’t excuse me just standing on the sidelines like that, I know, but—”
“So, essentially you chose the owl over a human?” Leila interrupted, arching an eyebrow and crossing her
arms.
“Uh, well,” Landon squirmed, all that confidence just falling off him. “When you put it that way, I guess I did. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think I get it,” Leila said, nodding.
“Thanks,” Landon said, rubbing at the back of his neck. Leila stood there in awkward silence with him for a moment, looking from him to Milford to the eagle in the cage. The sounds of the remaining members of B.E.A.C. wandering the Trust filtered in, soft voices muttering from not too far off.
“So, is this the part where you tell me his real story?” Leila asked, looking back at Milford.
“Story?”
“With the flying and whatever it was you had on him?”
“Ah.” Landon nodded, and then fished around inside a leather satchel wrapped around his arm. He pulled out a piece of strappy black cloth with bits of metal on it, shaped like the wing of one of those old-timey airplanes Leila had seen in history books and in black-and-white footage on television, when people rushed ill-fated contraptions madly off cliffs in hopes they would fly. “I’m the one who found Milford all those years ago. Parents’ backyard. I kept him in a shoebox until my father caught me and made me bring him up here.” Landon looked up, his eyes set on the eagle and the enclosure, and then spun around, leaning his back against it.
“It’s been, what, seven years, Milford?” He looked at the owl, cocking his head, and the owl in turn did the same, as if questioning him in return. “And I don’t know, he never really seemed happy in any of those cages. Missing a wing, hopping everywhere. So I take him out now and again, and keep trying with these things.” He shook the cloth wing out before handing it to her. “I hope it’ll work one day.”
“No luck?” Leila asked, looking over the cloth.
“Not really.” He shrugged. “Sometimes he gets up into the air for a few seconds, other times, comes crashing right back down. I mean really, there’s only so much I can do, armed only with Google and my math and engineering classes at CCP.”
“You’re at the county college?” Leila asked, handing him back the wing. Leila and Sarika had been to the Community College of Philadelphia a handful of times, for skills workshops and other outreach programs that wrangled up foster kids and kids in group homes. A handful of the professors hung around at Adam’s Café, often roping kids into the events.
