“Nope,” said Carl. He was showing Marie how to divide whole numbers by using Sally’s homemade sourdough cheddar cheese crackers. The baby kept eating them and yelling “Go fish!” It wasn’t clear if she wanted more or was simply demanding the store-bought kind.
“Today’s your lucky day, then,” Janis said. “How do you spell ‘truant’?”
“I don’t know what it means.”
“In that case you’re supposed to say, ‘Can you use it in a sentence, please?’”
“Can you use it in a sentence, please?”
Janis thought hard, then said, “Carl Harvey was a notorious truant. He hadn’t been to school in weeks.”
“What does notorious mean?”
Sally chuckled and sipped her coffee. Janis laid both hands on the table. “Kid! When are you going to school, for Pete’s sake?”
“We’re homeschooling. See?” Carl gestured proudly to the stack of unopened books on the desk.
Janis raised an eyebrow and looked at Sally, who nodded in confirmation.
“Too cool for regular school, huh? I get that. I liked school well enough myself, got good grades, made friends, but I was glad to be done with the whole scene when the time came. Some of us prefer to gallop to the sound of our own hoofbeats, isn’t that right, kid? Hey, seen any pterodactyls lately?”
He hadn’t, though he scanned the skies daily. By now, his encounter with the eagle felt like a dream, but the hard evidence of Foxy’s severed collar, which sat on his bookshelf right next to Big Robot’s battery-free remote control, remained.
“If I were a groovy homeschooled kid like you,” Janis said slyly, “my natural curiosity about that white-headed bird would be driving me nuts. I’d do some research. I’d consult some experts.”
“What kind of experts?”
“Eagle experts! Consulting eagle experts sounds like an absolute bull’s-eye of a homeschooling project. I’m just saying.”
Carl naturally glanced at his mother for a reaction, but Sally just gave him a blank look from across the table. Then she found something to pick up with her magnetic lid wand and got deeply interested in it. His own mother! You’d think she didn’t care whether he ever got an education at all.
Carl kicked his feet back and forth a few times. “Eagle experts, huh. Do you know any?” he finally asked.
“No, but I bet I know someone who does,” Janis said. “Sally, can I borrow the kid for a while?”
“Absolutely,” Sally said.
“Hop in the tractor, kid. We’re going on a field trip.”
* * *
Finally, a ride in a tractor! There wasn’t a passenger seat, so Carl had to squeeze in next to Janis. It was also incredibly loud, and Carl and Janis could only grin at each other as the machine rumbled along the road into town. Janis drove on the shoulder of the highway with the flashers on, but around here it wasn’t unusual to see farm equipment on the road. Other drivers slowed down and waved and shouted “Hey, Janis! Hey, Tin Can! Hey, kid!” as they passed, and Carl waved back. It was like being on a parade float.
The one-tractor parade ended at the library. The librarian seemed to be a friend of Janis’s. Then again, Janis seemed to know everyone in town.
“Just returning a few titles, Orin.” Janis dumped out her canvas tote bag, which had a picture of an antique red tractor above the words I LOVE TRACTORS on the front, and spilled twenty dog-eared paperbacks on the desk.
Orin showed no surprise at the quantity of books and scooped them onto a waiting cart. He had a pleasing appearance, with wide eyes, a roundish face, and not much hair. His glasses were perfectly round, with metal frames. Over his button-down shirt and tie he wore a sweater vest, a fashion item Carl had never seen before but found quite compelling.
“Well, thank goodness you brought these back, Janis,” he said, deadpan. “I was going to have to close the murder mystery section until you did.”
“I like murder stories,” Janis confided to Carl. “But just for fun. Not, you know—research.”
It hadn’t previously occurred to Carl that Janis might be planning a murder. Now there was no way not to consider it.
“My friend Carl here is the one doing research today,” she went on, to Orin. “Maybe you can help him while I choose my murder books. If you need me, I’ll be in the how-to section. I’m kidding, kid! I’ll see you fellas in a bit.” She left.
Orin turned his owlish face to Carl, bright-eyed with friendliness. “So how can I help you, Carl? I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before. Are you a homeschooler?” Carl’s startled expression made the librarian laugh. “No, I’m not psychic. Or a great detective, like Sherlock Holmes. But it’s lunchtime on a school day and here you are at the library doing research. Doesn’t take a genius. Hey, there’s a group of homeschooled kids in the multipurpose room right now. They’re building geodesic domes out of toothpicks and gumdrops, I think. Do you want me to introduce you?”
“Maybe next time,” Carl said, though he wouldn’t have minded a gumdrop. This library visit was his first real attempt at homeschooling and he wanted to keep it low-key. Sally had tucked the copy of Nature Study into his backpack, in case the eagle experts needed proof of his educational motives. He took it out to show Orin.
“I wanted to do some … uh…”
“Nature study?” Orin helpfully suggested.
“Right. About eagles. I saw one in my backyard,” he added.
Orin’s eyes grew rounder. “Really? Was it wearing a tracker?” Carl looked confused, and Orin explained, “It’s like a tiny backpack. There’s a GPS tracker in it that lets the scientists collect data on the bird’s movements.”
“I don’t know about a tracker,” Carl said. “But it did have something around its leg. Like a piece of tape.”
“An ankle band. Yup, that’s a tracked bird. How cool! You’re so lucky to have seen one. There are only four at the moment, I think. Come with me, I’ll show you.”
Orin walked to the computers and sat down. Carl followed, but remained standing. He could just glimpse the homeschooled kids through the glass, shoving toothpicks into gumdrops and making a big mess. It looked like it might possibly be fun.
“Do you have a computer at home?” Orin asked as he logged in.
“Yes, but we don’t have internet. There’s no cell phone signal, either.”
“A satellite dish will fix that. You can use the computers at the library as much as you like. If you go to this site”—he wrote down the name and website address on a notepad with the words KEEP CALM AND ASK A LIBRARIAN printed across the top of each page—“you can see what all the tracked eagles are up to.”
Carl looked at the paper Orin handed him, and his heart swelled. Finally, the golden ticket that would make his parents see reason about putting a satellite dish on top of the house! That eagle was bringing him good luck after all, even if it had scared him half to death.
“The Eagle Restoration Project,” he read, curious. “Is it like an eagle cam?”
“They used to have an eaglet cam, when the babies were in the nesting box. The eaglets slept a lot, but you got to watch the scientists feed them. Now the birds are all grown up. They’re out there, free.” Orin gestured with one hand and moved the computer mouse with the other. “Look at all the data the scientists collect with those GPS trackers. You can see where the birds fly, how high they go, how fast, typical flight paths, all kinds of neat stuff. See, I was right; they’re tracking four birds. Each one shows up as a different color line on the graph. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Sally Ride, John Glenn.”
Carl let his backpack slip off his shoulders. “I feel like I’ve heard those names before.”
“These eagles are named after famous astronauts.” Orin smiled. “Space exploration! That’s another research project for you.”
“Eagles are enough for now.” Carl grabbed a chair and sat down in front of the computer, next to Orin. “Can you show me how to read the data?”
* * *
“That’s amazing. Pass the potatoes, champ?”
Carl speared a potato for himself as he handed the serving platter to his dad. “Sure. Hey, Mom. Did you know there was an astronaut named Sally?”
Sally dabbed her lips. “I’d forgotten that. Were you researching that, too, today?”
“No, just eagles. Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, his mouth half full. “We need a satellite dish. Right away.”
Brad and Sally exchanged a look. “Because?” Sally said.
“Because I need the internet. To do nature study.”
“What about doing nature study in nature?”
Carl spoke reasonably as he ladled gravy onto his plate. “Mom. Dad. Conservation scientists rescued four baby American bald eagles from Westcondon—”
“I’m guessing you mean Wisconsin?” Brad asked.
“I do mean Wisconsin,” Carl said, brimming with confidence. “They raised the baby eagles by hand. In a box! When the birds grew up, the scientists set them free wearing tiny backpacks with GPS thingies in them, so the scientists can learn stuff. There’s new data every day, and it’s all on the internet. Therefore, I can’t do nature study without a satellite dish.”
“I’d say this homeschooling thing is going well,” Sally said, amused. “Eagles, conservation, astronauts, ‘data,’ names of the states, sort of…”
“I smell a whiff of debate club in there, too.” Brad was smiling. “All right, champ. We were planning to get a dish anyway. I was going to surprise you. I can’t build a website for the farm without high-speed internet, and it turns out we need to have a website to be in business properly as farmers. It’s the twenty-first century, after all! I’ll get on it tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Carl said, keeping his demeanor calm. Inside he was whooping with joy. Satellite dish! High-speed internet! Could premium TV channels be far behind?
“Big ba! Jan Glaa! Fa ma mint!” Marie yelled, pounding her fists on her high chair tray with excitement. Clearly she was delighted to hear mention of that big bird, the majestic John Glenn, whom she sometimes wondered if she would ever see again.
She liked the idea of a tiny backpack, too. She owned one herself, with a picture of a happy Japanese cartoon kitty on it. She wondered what John Glenn’s backpack looked like. Perhaps they could share!
“Woof, woof,” Foxy remarked, briefly alert. She too hoped they would see the noble raptor again, and by the way, she would be ever so grateful if Marie would rub between her shoulder blades with one of those firm, pudgy feet of hers, once she was unbuckled from her special eating chair and down on the floor once more, where all the truly interesting things happened. And perhaps a tiny taste of that minced roast chicken might find its way down as well? Stealing table scraps was a far cry from hunting prey, but at least the chicken hadn’t come out of a can.
Marie was happy to oblige.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A friend in need.
Several thousand feet above the roof of Prune Street Farm, upon which a shiny new satellite dish had recently been installed, John Glenn was struggling against a minor headwind. Something wasn’t right. He was off-balance, and the flight feathers on his right wing had a snagged feeling on the downstroke.
The source of the difficulty seemed to be situated high on his back, dead center, below the base of the neck. On a human, or even a dog, you’d say it was right between the shoulder blades, but birds don’t have much in the way of shoulders. Frustratingly, it was the only part of his own body he couldn’t closely examine.
John Glenn needed help. It was a rare thought for an eagle to entertain, proud and independent creatures that they are. But help from whom? If he was older he’d have likely found a mate to spend the breeding seasons with. Not yet, though. Eagles mate for life, and John Glenn was still too young for that kind of commitment.
He had no friends to call upon, either. Bald eagles are true loners. Even after they choose their mates, they hunt and migrate alone for most of the year.
If he dropped in on the scientists, they would be glad to see him, and surprised—usually they were the ones who tracked him down, by use of a quick stinging bite that came from nowhere and made him sleepy enough for even a human to catch—but John Glenn knew from experience that they’d give him way more attention than he liked. Much like young Carl Harvey, John preferred to keep a low profile.
Still, life is full of unexpected swoops, and it appeared that even an eagle might need another set of eyes to help sort things out now and then. John Glenn could only think of one creature who might be inclined to do him such a service. Banking sharply, he began his descent.
* * *
It was Foxy’s first sunny afternoon as a free Shiba in six weeks, and it felt like heaven. That she’d had regained her off-leash privileges at all was thanks to Janis, who’d suggested that the dog get trained to herd the sheep that Janis was still urging Brad to acquire.
“She can’t. She’s locked inside all the time,” Carl had replied.
“Locked inside? That’s no life for a farm dog. She should be running around the property, guarding the place and earning her keep.” Janis rubbed the back of her head. “Wait—kid—you mean to tell me that dog of yours hasn’t been outside scaring off the critters?”
“She’s been grounded.” Carl explained it the best way he knew how. “Leash walks only. It’s because she ran away.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Flummoxed, she turned to Sally. “And you still have no voles? No chipmunks? No rabbits? You haven’t set any traps?”
“Traps! Heavens, no,” Sally said, laughing at Marie, who shook her head no no no with a profoundly serious expression on her face.
“No traps. No dog. No critters in the garden…” Janis looked like she might say something sharp, but she didn’t. “Well, it’s hard to believe, I’ll say that much.”
“Beginner’s luck is still with us, I guess,” Sally said brightly, waving it off.
Foxy had approached Janis with an inscrutable gaze, and gave a plaintive woof. Janis patted the dog’s head.
“Sick of being out of work, huh, pup?” She turned to Carl. “I say let the dog loose. Let her do her job.”
“But she ran away—”
“Leaving and coming back isn’t the same as running away. Look at her. She wants to work, don’t you, bright eyes?”
“Woof, woof!” said Foxy, right on cue, which made them all laugh. The dog looked so eager that the Harveys decided to let freedom ring once more. No yellow vest was needed until hunting season, Janis assured them, but the dog should wear her collar with ID tags at all times.
Foxy thought this was a fair deal, as long as Carl opened the door for her whenever she scratched at it, which he did, well-trained lad that he was.
What a relief to be free! The grass was lush, the sun was warm, the air was full of smells. Foxy was anxious for news of Alice and Thistle, but her particular concern was Doggo. Had the fox found the stash of GlitterTooth treats she’d put aside as payment for chaperoning? Had the rabbits been escorted properly during her time in lockdown? Were Foxy and her doppelgänger still friends? Would she like him better if his breath weren’t so foul?
To answer these questions properly, she’d have to be out after dark, when the rabbits and their vulpine escort arrived, yet she knew it would sizzle Carl’s nerves for her to stay out late on her first day of untethered bliss.
What to do? She’d mulled it over until her brain hurt and her eyes grew heavy. She dozed on a sunny patch of grass near the barn, where her overanxious humans could at least see her.
All at once a cool shadow fell over her, followed by a graceless thud.
“John Glenn!” she exclaimed, springing to her feet. “What a delightful surprise!”
“It pleases me t
o see you as well, dog named Foxy. I came because I need your help,” John Glenn confessed, his white head bowed.
“At your service, friend bird! But I ought to tell you: My humans made an absurd fuss about your previous visit. Perhaps we ought to speak somewhere out of sight of the house? Follow me, if you please.”
They reconvened behind the barn, Foxy trotting silently, John Glenn lurching along in awkward, gliding hops. His balance seemed to be getting worse.
“That’s better,” Foxy said, when they’d found a private spot. “Now we can speak about whatever’s troubling you. But first, John Glenn, tell me: How did you ever manage to find me again from the great wide sky above?”
There was vanity in the question, and no doubt Foxy would have liked an answer like “Oh, you’re such a distinctive creature!” but eagles don’t flatter.
“This house is easy to spot,” John Glenn replied. “Like a single red poppy in a wide green field.” He swiveled his neck, and his magnificent profile was something to behold. “It’s changed since last time. There’s something shiny on the roof.”
Foxy’s ears drooped. “Oh, that! When Brad said they were getting a new dish, everyone was so thrilled that naturally I assumed it was for me. But then they stuck it on the roof, where no one can eat out of it. I don’t see the point.”
“I could eat out of it,” John Glenn said mildly.
“Well, yes, of course you could. Maybe it’s meant for you, then? Was there food in it, perchance?”
“There was not,” said the bird.
Foxy snorted. “I will never fully understand my humans. They mean well, though.”
“I feel that way about my scientists,” John Glenn said. “They mean well. But their behavior defies explanation.” He paused. “Foxy, do you remember when I took off your vest and collar?”
Foxy’s tail was up and waggling. “Do I! That was marvelous.”
“I need you to do the same for me. My tracker is askew. It pulls on my secondaries, and now I’m off-kilter. See?”
Alice's Farm Page 14
