Special Delivery!

by Sue Stauffacher

  Not too many parents would let crows swoop down on their children. But the Carters were not like other parents. They understood wild animals better than most and they knew Keisha did, too.

  “Well, those crows are either trying to protect something or they’re sensing danger,” Daddy said. “If it’s the first thing, we should figure out what it is so they don’t hurt someone else or get hurt themselves. If it’s the second thing, we have to figure out what makes your dad so scary.”

  “Our dad isn’t scary,” Zack said. “He was the clown in the Hollyhock Parade.”

  “To crows, I mean.” Daddy wiped his face with his napkin and dropped it back on his lap. “If your dad agrees, you three can ride your bikes over to Mrs. Sampson’s house. Keisha will know if it’s a dangerous situation. And you, Z-Team, will have to let Keisha make the decisions. Can you do that?”

  “Sure. We have to listen to her lots of times at school,” Zack said.

  “What about me?” Razi asked, pushing his plate away.

  Grandma Alice put her hand on Razi’s arm. “We will stay here and strip the peas and shuck the corn for dinner,” she said.

  “Awww.” Razi started to protest, but he loved taking things apart. From under lowered eyelids, he asked Mama: “Can I keep the silk?”

  The last time Razi shucked the corn, there were little strands of corn silk all over the house.

  “Yes, but in the back. Not in the house.”

  “I can give it to Big Bob for the birds. Corn silk is very comfy.”

  “But will it still be that way next spring?” Keisha began collecting the plates from the table. The Wild 4-Ever Club was gathering warm natural materials like feathers, animal hair and wool to hang out early next spring when birds were looking for soft things to line their nests.

  “I’m making a silk present for Big Bob.”

  Why argue with Razi? When he got an idea into his head, it stuck like a bur. Everybody liked their club leader, Big Bob. For thirty years, he was a biology teacher at Grand River Community College. He had a full beard that was red where it wasn’t white and lots of muscles for an old guy. Now he had time for what he called his encore career as a veterinary tech at the Humane Society. Big Bob cared for animals, too. Only he cared for the kinds of animals that people kept as pets—puppies, kittens, bunnies … puppies.

  Keisha reached for the kitchen towel to help Mama with the dishes, but Mama shooed her away.

  “Mr. Sanders and I can do this. He’s very good at wiping dishes. You go ahead, Ada. I want you back in time to practice the pledge with Razi before his big ceremony.”

  Keisha nodded. When Mama called her by her pet name, Ada—which, in the Igbo language, meant the first daughter—Keisha knew Mama was asking her to act like an adult.

  Mama leaned down and kissed her forehead. “But be careful. Crows are powerful.”

  Chapter 2

  What was it about the Z-Team that made them always need to ride up front? Ever since they got their trick bikes, Zack and Zeke rode side by side. When there was a speed bump, they flew over it together and gave each other a high five. Zack and Zeke got along best when they were on their bikes.

  Late summer was Keisha’s favorite time of year. She rode behind the Z-Team, taking in the tall sycamore trees that spread their branches up and over the street. It felt like riding through a leafy green tunnel. Now that it was August, Mrs. Paretsky dressed the plastic goose on her front step in a polka-dot dress with a little scarf tied on its head. Her grandchildren made dandelion necklaces for the goose to wear.

  Zack called back to Keisha something about Jorge. They were close to Jorge’s house and riding at top speed. Keisha wasn’t even sure she’d heard him right. Jorge knew a lot about birds, but Mama and Daddy hadn’t said it was okay to bring Jorge.

  “Let’s go by ourselves first!” she called out to them.

  Zack put his hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you,” he shouted back.

  It didn’t help that they were riding past the alley behind Eleanor Street and all the kids outside were screaming. That meant the Vanderests had turned the sprinkler on. Even though they were old, the Vanderests loved children. In the summer, Mrs. Vanderest brought out paint and let anyone who wanted to paint the rocks that lined the street in their front yard. She never said that the rocks had to wear red, white and blue colors for the Hollyhock Parade, but they always did. And when you had to rest from pedaling your heavy decorated bicycle, you could sit on the big rocks and get some Hoggy Doggy Double Dutch Chocolate ice cream. Every little container had a wooden paddle to scoop out the ice cream. There was always enough, even when some kids took two.

  Now the Z-Team cut down the alley, making the little ones scream even more as they splashed in the puddles from the sprinkler.

  “Jorge!” they shouted up to Jorge’s second-floor apartment, two doors down from the Vanderests’ house.

  “Hey.” Jorge stepped out onto the second-floor porch. He had baby Carmelo in his arms. “Where do you think you’re going without me?”

  Jorge lived with his grandparents. Jorge was the Z-Team’s best friend. Sometimes he got along better with Zack, sometimes Zeke. Sometimes the twins fought over Jorge, which made him feel special because Jorge was an only child.

  “We were just coming to get you,” Zack said, his bike skidding to a stop. “Get on. We got to go talk to some crows.”

  “Let me ask.” Jorge disappeared from view.

  “Hello? Who decided this?” Keisha asked the Z-Team as she caught up. “We might get in trouble.”

  “I asked you just now,” Zack said. “When we were riding.”

  “Didn’t you hear him?” Zeke asked.

  “What I said was—”

  “I was pretty sure you said yes.”

  Jorge opened the front door and Zack jumped to the ground so his friend could climb on back.

  If it were anyone other than Jorge, Keisha would have told him to stay home. But Jorge was good with animals, too. He was especially good with birds.

  When things got boring on the playground, Jorge would do birdcalls for the kids. All they had to do was point at a bird and he could make the noise. Sparrow, robin, pigeon, crow. Didn’t matter. He could do other birds, too, even if they didn’t come around the playground. That’s because Big Bob had showed Jorge how to look up birdcalls on the Internet one evening after a Wild 4-Ever Club meeting.

  Keisha knew a lot about birds and she tried to learn to make their calls, but nobody was as good as Jorge.

  “Hi, Keisha,” Jorge said. “I have to be back in an hour to take care of Carmelo so Wita can go shopping.” Carmelo was Jorge’s baby cousin and Wita was Jorge’s name for his grandma. When he was little, he couldn’t pronounce the whole word in Spanish—“abuelita”—so he said “wita” and it stuck.

  “Are you bringing Carmelo to the Wild 4-Ever Club meeting tonight?”

  Jorge nodded. “Wita has to work.”

  Keisha was glad that Carmelo was coming. Carmelo and Paulo were baby friends.

  Jorge didn’t have a bike, so he always stood on the pegs at the back of one of the Z-Team’s bikes.

  “Ride with me, Jorge,” Zeke said.

  Keisha thought there would be a long discussion: “No, me.” “No! Me!”

  But there wasn’t. The twins must really want to see these crows. Zack hopped back on his bike. Jorge stepped on the pegs of Zeke’s bike and grabbed his shoulders.

  “I’ll tell you about the murder while we ride,” Zack shouted as they took off.

  Soon they were in a part of Alger Heights that Keisha didn’t know very well. It was close to Burton Street, a very busy four-lane street. Mama didn’t like Keisha to ride her bike there. But Mr. Sanders let Zack and Zeke ride anywhere on his mail route, so they knew where they were going. They turned down a road that had bigger houses than most of the ones her friends lived in. They were older, too—brick houses with gates out front and painted-black iron railings and bars over the windows. The
people who lived in those houses weren’t as friendly as Mrs. Paretsky or the Vanderests.

  Zack and Zeke were talking to each other and pointing. They sped up and turned in between two brick pillars that marked the entrance to a street called Orchard Court. There was a big house at the far end.

  They rode ahead of Keisha, straight toward the house.

  Too late, Keisha saw the crows circling overhead.

  “Run for your life!” Zack shouted as a crow swooped toward him. Jorge jumped off as Zeke dropped his bike to the ground and ran. Keisha slowed up, trying to figure out what the crow was protecting. As she got closer to the driveway, she saw the mailbox. Another crow dove down, screeching. This one came from behind her. Others were in the trees above, hopping up and down and cawing. Full-sized crows were big! Like a football with wings and claws! Swish! Swoop!

  There was nothing to do but drop her bike and run, too.

  “Keisha, quick!” The boys had found a trellis covered with vines and were taking cover beneath it. “It’s an attack. Hide over here!”

  As soon as Keisha left the area near the mailbox, the crows retreated to the trees. They kept making noise, though. Caw! Caw! Craw! A crow racket could wake the whole neighborhood.

  “They’re awful mad about something,” Zeke said.

  “What do you think, Jorge?” Keisha had to redo her ponytail after the ride and getting swooped by crows. She tucked all the pieces that had sprung out back under her headband.

  Jorge didn’t answer. He was watching the crows.

  “It’s like we were attacking them just by riding our bikes,” Zack said, panting.

  “Yeah. What did we do?” Zeke wondered.

  Now that the crows were settling, Keisha had a chance to look around and think about it. They had been coming down the street toward the big brick house at the end, but as soon as they got near the mailbox, the crows went crazy.

  Keisha looked up at the house. The wood was sagging on the front porch, and Keisha could see little gaps between the stones in the foundation. She watched as a chipmunk darted into the downspout and popped up on the roof in a spot where the spout had come apart.

  That was when she saw an old woman’s face in the second-floor window. It startled Keisha. Was the woman watching them?

  “Hey, Jorge, what are they saying?” Zack asked.

  “They sound mad,” Jorge said, his eyes scanning the trees, “but crows don’t get mad for no reason. I think they’re trying to protect something. Something in the mailbox.”

  “In the mailbox? Do you think they’re waiting for a package?” Zack laughed and pulled a few purplish green grapes off a bunch by his side. He rolled them around in his fingers until the skins started to split.

  “Don’t pick those,” Keisha warned Zack. “There’s an old lady in that house watching us.”

  A strange sound came from inside the mailbox. It sounded a little like a stick scratching on metal. The mailbox door was open just a crack.

  “Did you see that?” Zack said. He had the best eyes of the four. “A head just popped out of the mailbox.”

  “Did not,” said Zeke.

  “Did so,” said Zack.

  “That,” said Jorge, “is what the crows are protecting.”

  Keisha nodded. “It’s the right time of year for crow nestlings,” she said.

  “But how did it get in the mailbox?” Zeke wanted to know.

  “More important—” Keisha stopped talking and started thinking like a wildlife rehabilitator. “How long has it been in there? And how are we going to get it out?”

  “You kids get away from those grapes!” The children turned to see the old lady coming out of her house, swinging a broom. “I’m serious. This is private property.”

  Jorge ducked behind Zack, who put his hands behind his back and looked at the ground. Zeke pushed Keisha forward. She was the one who knew how to talk to old ladies.

  “Stay here,” Keisha ordered the boys. “And don’t even touch those grapes.”

  “I’m Keisha Carter,” she said when she got to the bottom of the porch steps. “My mom and dad run Carters’ Urban Rescue. We were riding our bikes and, well, I think you have a baby bird in your mailbox.”

  “Of course I have a baby bird in my mailbox. I put it there myself.”

  “Why would you put a baby crow in your mailbox?”

  “To save it from the cat, of course.”

  “Has it been in there long?”

  “Three hours and twenty-seven minutes. The cat just left.”

  “But how will it eat?”

  “Well, it’s been fluttering around my mailbox since yesterday, and so I scattered some seed around.… Now I’ve put some seeds in the mailbox, too. And a bowl of water. That was no easy task with crows all over me.”

  “But they don’t eat seeds,” Keisha said. “Not the babies … and you have to give them water from a syringe.”

  “What’s your name again?” The woman looked Keisha up and down, trying to decide if she believed a ten-year-old girl was capable of knowing how baby crows drink.

  But before Keisha could answer, she added: “And where did your friends learn their manners? I make grape juice for God’s Kitchen with those grapes.”

  Keisha couldn’t wait to tell the boys they’d been squishing God’s grapes!

  “The thing is, Mrs. Sampson, it’s getting hot in that mailbox even in the shade. That baby crow will get dehydrated and that could kill it.”

  “How do you know my name? Have you been snooping?” Mrs. Sampson leaned on her broom. She looked tired.

  “Mr. Sanders told us. He’s your postman. And their dad.” Keisha waved at the boys and smiled big, hoping they would return a cheerful wave, which they did.

  “Mr. Snoopers is more like it. What business is it of his to tell those grape-plucking hooligans my name?”

  “About this baby crow …” Keisha pulled the family business card out of her pocket. “I think maybe my dad can help.”

  Mrs. Sampson squinted at the business card. “Are you trying to sell me something, young lady? Because, if so, I need to have everything in writing. People take advantage of the elderly, you know.”

  Keisha sighed. While she was trying to explain things to Mrs. Sampson, that little bird was getting more and more dehydrated.

  “I know. I’ll bring my dad back here and you can talk to him.” She left Mrs. Sampson waving her finger and rushed back to the boys.

  “Hurry up, guys,” she called out to them, pulling her bike out of the tangle. “As soon as we drop Jorge off, we’ve got a baby crow to rescue.”

  Chapter 3

  Keisha and the Z-Team rode their bikes into the yard so fast they almost got into a pileup with Daddy’s Havahart traps. Wen and Aaliyah stood in the driveway with their beaded, red, white and blue double-Dutch jump ropes, watching the commotion.

  “We need a crossing guard in this driveway,” Aaliyah said, “to make sure there are no accidents.”

  “No, we need to save a baby bird!” Zack cried, dropping his bike on the ground. “All hands on deck.”

  “What does that mean?” Zeke asked, putting his bike up against Daddy’s truck.

  “It means we all have to get ready.”

  “What are you talking about?” Aaliyah said. “It’s time to practice.”

  “Not yet, Aaliyah.” Keisha looked around for Daddy. “Where is everybody?”

  “Your mama took Razi and Paulo to the children’s museum,” Wen said. “And your dad’s going to drive us to the Mount Zion Church parking lot so we can practice double Dutch in the shade.”

  Daddy came to the door, jingling the truck keys and whistling. “I want to stop at the hardware store while you girls are jumping,” he said. “Oh, boys, your mother called and asked me to send you home. You’ve got to mow the lawn.”

  “Awww, we just gave the grass a haircut.” Zeke got back on his bike and turned it around.

  “Can’t we wait until after we see the murder again
?” Zack asked.

  “See the murder again?” Aaliyah dropped her jump rope on the ground. “I never understand what is going on around here.”

  “How did it go at Mrs. Sampson’s house?”

  Keisha told everyone about the baby crow in the mailbox. “A murder is a group of crows, Aaliyah. It’s not a real murder.”

  Zack untangled his bicycle from the traps. “You don’t have to tell her everything, Keisha. Now we can’t brag about seeing a real murder.”

  “But we did see a real murder.” Zeke took off down the driveway. “I get the front yard,” he called back over his shoulder.

  “Do not! I did the back last time.”

  “Did not!”

  The girls watched them go, the Z-team repeating “did not” all the way down the street.

  Daddy scratched the side of his face. “Hmmm. Maybe we better go there first. Keisha, put together a baby bird first-aid kit, would you?”

  “Can Aaliyah and Wen come with us to see the baby crow?” Keisha asked.

  “Aaliyah will have to call Moms.”

  Aaliyah was already coiling up the rope. She pulled out her cell phone. “Just don’t make me go near crows. I like crows to stay where they live—in the trees—and me to stay on the sidewalk. If Moms knew I was messin’ with crows, she wouldn’t let me play with Keisha anymore.”

  Wen grabbed Keisha’s hand and they had an eye giggle together. That’s where you laugh about something, but you don’t let the laugh spread to your whole face. Aaliyah spent her summers with her grandma—who everybody called Moms—while her parents worked. Unlike Wen’s parents, Moms needed to be called whenever the plans changed. Aaliyah was always telling the girls that her Moms would never let her do this or that, but Keisha and Wen thought Moms was nice. She braided Keisha’s hair and made the best “sweet tea” north of Montgomery, Alabama. That’s where her people were from.

  Grandma showed up on the front steps dragging the beach umbrella. “I heard, I heard,” she said. “I call the front seat.”