Wild Birds of Maine

Once again, Zach was standing in the doorway when she arrived. He led her to the dining room, then went to the kitchen for plates.

"Do you drink beer?" he called.

"Nothing better with pizza."

"A woman after my own heart."

He brought two bottles of Sam Adams with him when he returned.

"Would you like a glass?" he asked.

Emma shook her head. "I'm an outdoors girl, remember?"

As they ate, Emma explained that she had decided not to contact anyone about their possible discovery.

"I get it," he said," You've got a reputation in the birder community to protect."

Emma shook her head. "No, that's not it. I'm just a very cautious person generally."

When they finished the pizza, they took their beers out to the back porch. Zach sat down on the steps while Emma scouted for the best place to mount the game camera.

"Does that thing take night vision pictures?" he asked.

"Yes, but that won't do us much good. We need to see its color and markings clearly. It would still be best if I can get a high resolution shot."

She decided to attach the camera to one leg of the porch railing. Once she had it strapped in place, she sat down next to Zach. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the pines. They listened to the crickets and finished their beers.

Emma stood and stretched. "Well, I'll see you in the morning," she said.

"It's going to be cooler tonight. I hope you'll be okay."

Emma laughed. "Honey, I've camped in the Maine woods in the dead of winter." She blushed, realizing she had called him 'honey.' If he had noticed, he gave no indication.

"Emma!" he called as she crossed the yard. She turned and he asked, "Any requests tonight?"

She was puzzled for a moment, then realized that he was referring to his nightly saxophone session.

"I'm sure you'll think of something appropriate." She smiled and waved and ducked into her tent.

After taking off her shoes and her jeans, she slid into the sleeping bag. She picked up her book, but had read no more than a few sentences before she heard the saxophone.

This time, she recognized the tune immediately, and she knew the lyrics.

Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near

She craned her neck to peek through the narrow opening between the tent flaps. Zach was standing in the upstairs window. Although the evening was cooler, tonight, the window was open.

Just like me, they long to be, close to you

He wasn't just practicing or following his usual routine, he was playing for her. She remembered what Beverly had said; the first time he came to the store it was to find out about the bird. The second time it was for her. She didn't think he was feigning interest in verifying the sighting; she was convinced that he was genuinely excited about it. But that did not preclude him being equally interested in her.

Emma blushed as she listened to him play. She felt ill equipped in matters of romance. She had dated a few boys in high school, but nothing ever came of it. When she met Greg in her first semester at Bowdoin, they clicked immediately. They got an apartment together at the beginning of their sophomore year and were married a month after graduation. There had never been anyone else for her but Greg.

But might there be someday? She was only thirty seven years old. Did she want to spend the next forty or fifty years alone?

No, she was sure that the time would come when she'd be ready for another relationship, but the idea frightened her. She and Greg had been such a perfect match, two halves of one soul. She was afraid that by letting go of him, she would be letting go of some important part of herself.

Zach played on, but the melody was unfamiliar to her. She wondered if it was something he composed himself, or maybe something he was improvising, just for her. She couldn't imagine herself as someone's muse.

She grew drowsy and rolled on to her side. Within a few minutes, the music stopped. She thought she heard Zach's voice. She wasn't sure, perhaps he said good night to her. Perhaps she just imagined it.

****

Emma woke up in total darkness. She had to pee, badly. Damn beer, she thought. She patted the floor of the tent, and found her phone next to her head. The screen lit up. It was 3:25.

She crawled from her sleeping bag and got out of the tent. She thought she could just pee in the bushes; she had done so many times. But it was too dark to check for ticks, and ticks can kill you. Just go in the house, she told herself. She hesitated. She was only wearing underpants and a T-shirt.

But Zach was certainly sound asleep. Just be quiet, she thought, as she crossed the yard, lighting her way with the light on her phone. A few feet from the porch, a mosquito landed on her thigh. Without thinking, she slapped it and the slap sounded like a gunshot.

She stood still for a moment, waiting to see a light come on in the upstairs window. When nothing happened, she stepped forward. The wooden steps creaked as she mounted the porch, and of course, the screen door squealed when she opened it.

She stepped into the kitchen, stopped and listened. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound.

Tiptoeing, she crossed to the bathroom, quietly shut the door, then turned on the light.

She used the toilet and washed her hands. Before opening the door, she turned the light off. As she stepped into the hall, she heard, from up the stairs, a sound she had not heard in a long time, a man's soft snoring. She stood for a moment, listening, and was struck with an unexpected fantasy. She imagined herself silently creeping up the stairs and slipping into Zach's bed beside him.

She almost giggled at the absurd thought, and quickly but quietly made her way through the kitchen and out of the house. Once the door had closed behind her, she let out a little chuckle. When she was back in her sleeping bag, however, the thought of being in bed with Zach did not seem so funny. If they did confirm the Bartlett sighting, they would remain connected in some ways going forward. She did not want that complicated by any sort of feelings beyond friendship. Bev was already convinced that Zach had a crush on her. Put it out of your mind, she thought, but it took her a long time to get back to sleep.

****

The loud cawing of crows woke her. She looked out of the tent. The sky in the east was a deep purple. Peering toward the house, she could see movement on the ground under the feeder. Zooming in with her camera lens, she could make out a small flock of mourning doves, grazing on the fallen seed.

There was bird song in the distance. A redstart, she thought. It was too faint to be sure. But, they were waking up. As the sky lightened, they began to come to the feeder.

The nuthatches were first, as they often were, then the titmice. When there was enough illumination to get a good shot, she snapped a few of a male cardinal and a pair of bluejays. There was a loud fluttering noise, and a large flock of small brown birds, sparrows and finches, swirled into the yard, like leaves on an autumn wind. Most of them landed on the ground, crowding out the doves. Others hovered around the feeder's tube, competing for the perches.

Emma heard rustling from the undergrowth on the far side of the yard. The flock heard it too, and scattered into the trees. She turned her camera toward the sound. Wouldn't it be ironic, she thought, if I spotted the Bartlett, only to see it snatched away by a fox or a wandering house cat? But when she focused, she saw a porcupine waddling through the brush.

The flock returned. She scanned along the ground. Seeing nothing more interesting than a lone chipmunk dodging among the birds, hoping to snatch a seed or two before they ate them all, she turned her attention back to the feeder.

She thought she saw a flash of yellow, but it came and went in an instant. She switched to auto shoot and tightened in, slowly scanning up and down the tube.

Then, it was looking right at her. A small yellow bird, definitely a sparrow, with dark brown streaks running back from above his eyes. The brightness of his color indicated that he was a male.

Emma got her first shot just before he hopped to a higher perch, this one in her full view. She kept shooting as he ducked his head into the feeder's opening.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity and the flock took off again, the Bartlett among them. She took her finger from the button and looked across the yard. The porcupine had come out of the brush and was waddling toward the feeder. He would finish the seed on the ground. The flock wouldn't be back again this morning.

While she was taking the pictures, Emma had remained calm and focused. But as soon as the flock was gone, the Bartlett among them, she scrambled out of her tent, elated. She dashed toward the house, shouting, "Zach! Zach! I got it!" She nearly stepped on the porcupine as it retreated from the yard.

The back door opened and Zach stepped on to the porch. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of black slacks and an unbuttoned white shirt.

"You got it?" he said, his voice almost breaking with excitement.

"I got it," Emma said. She suddenly realized that she was standing in front of him in just a t-shirt and panties. She stopped short and took a step backward.

"Let me get my laptop," she said. She turned and walked back to the tent, sure that he was watching her. But when she knelt to enter the tent and glanced over her shoulder, he had already gone back in the house.

She quickly dressed, then took her laptop and camera to the house, stopping on the way to remove the game cam from the porch rail.

Zach brought coffee and warm muffins to the table as Emma uploaded the pictures from her camera to her laptop. He sat down next to her and draped his arm over her shoulders.

Emma scrolled past the pictures of the cardinal and the jays, and stopped on the first shot of the Bartlett.

"That's him?" Zach whispered, as if he might scare it away.

"That's him." She turned to look at Zach. His eyes were wide open and his mouth gaped. She was pleased by how genuinely moved he was.

"How many pictures did you get? he asked.

"Forty eight."

"Wow. Good ones?"

"You know that I'm an award winning wildlife photographer, right?"

Zach chuckled. "Touche."

They went through the rest of the pictures. There were two in which the Bartlett was obscured by the blurred wings of other birds, and in the last one, only his tail feathers were in the frame as he flew off. She had taken forty four clear pictures.

Emma disconnected her camera, then loaded the pictures from the game cam.

"Those are not as good," Zach muttered.

"No, of course not, but they match the others, so they are verification if anyone questions the sighting."

"So, what do we do now?" he asked.

"Well, I have to get ready for work."

"I do too, but I meant with the pictures."

"We send them to Fish and Wildlife and to the Audubon. Don't be surprised if you find game wardens traipsing around your yard soon."

They finished their muffins and Emma closed the laptop. "Do you want to give me some help with my tent?" she asked Zach as she rose from the table.

"Sure," he said. He held the door open for her and they walked out to the porch. She started to step off, but he put his hand on her shoulder, and she stopped.

"I was just thinking," he said, "Maybe you ought to leave it here. You might want to get more pictures."

Emma understood immediately what he was thinking. Was their brief partnership done now, or just beginning? It was a question she couldn't answer. But, if she left her tent in his yard, a connection remained, at least for a while.

"I suppose it can wait." She put her hand on his arm. "Zach, this has been a very special experience for me."

"For me, too," he said nodding.

They stared into each others eyes for a moment, then Emma saw his gaze drop to her lips.

Do it, she thought, and he did, lowering his face and kissing her.

He drew back, red faced. She quickly kissed him back, then turned and stepped off the porch.

He followed her to her car, where they exchanged awkward goodbyes.

The sky darkened as she drove toward MicMac Falls. Her mind kept shifting, from her unmitigated joy over confirming the sighting, to her more confused feelings about kissing Zach. But the looming rain did not dampen her high spirits as she travelled the empty country road

The first raindrops spotted her windshield as she reached the outskirts of town. When she parked behind the store the rain was coming down hard. She dashed to the back door and let herself in. It was just past nine. She went to the front entrance, unlocked it and flipped over the Open sign. There was no one on the street. That was fine with her; customers coming in would be a distraction.

She set her laptop on the counter and opened the draft email she had written the day before. Scrolling through her pictures, she chose the half dozen that she thought best, and added them. Again and again, she returned to that very first shot. The sparrow, Bart as she had begun to think of him, seemed to be looking at her as if he had been expecting her.

After editing the text to explain the second sighting, and had an inspiration. She went to the bookshelf and lugged the big book of Audubon paintings to the counter. Opening to the plate of the Bartlett's sparrow, she took a picture of it with her phone, then transferred it to her laptop and added it to the email.

She kept thinking there was one more thing she should do before she send it. Then it came to her. She added Zach's email address to the list of recipients.

When she hit Send, she felt goosebumps. She sat and stared at the computer screen, as if she could expect an instant response.

The door chimes tinkled and a middle aged couple rushed in, dripping rainwater from their coats. Emma greeted them and closed the laptop. They wandered through the store, looking at the merchandise. Emma figured them for browsers, coming in to get out of the rain.

"Let me know if I can help you with anything," she said.

They thanked her, then the woman smiled and said, "You must really love them."

Emma was not sure she had heard the woman clearly. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"Birds. I was saying you must love them."

Emma smiled awkwardly. "Oh. Yes, I do," she replied. For a moment, she had thought the woman had said "him."

They looked around for another minute or two, then waved at her and left. The rain was letting up and a trickle of customers came in. Every time they exited, Emma would check her email again, and each time she felt foolish.

Just before noon, Bev came in through the back door, calling, "I come bearing food and rest."

"How are you bearing rest?" Emma asked, laughing.

Bev set a bag from MicMac Variety down on the counter. "I am going to cover the afternoon, and let you go home," she said, taking chicken salad sandwiches and two bottles of iced tea from the bag.

"Oh, thank you," Emma said, "Yeah, I'm pretty tired after two nights in the tent."

"You probably got wet this morning, didn't you? I imagine your vigil was a wash out."

"Nope," Emma smiled. She turned the laptop's screen toward Bev and watched her face light up in surprise.

"Well, hello, little cutie," Bev said, leaning closer and scrolling through the pictures.

"It didn't start raining until I was on my way home."

They took their sandwiches to the backroom and sat at the work table.

"So, are you going to be famous now?" Bev asked.

Emma made a scoffing sound. "I might get a mention in the Audubon Magazine."

"Well, people who read that are likely to shop at a lovely little bird store in Maine."

"Maybe a few will."

"Well, famous among the right people is better than being famous with just everybody," Bev shrugged.

"Honey, that makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense. I am just hoping it helps bring in more business. Things have been tight lately, and Lily is driving now and lobbying hard for us to get her a car."

"Maybe we should make some prints from one of the pictures. I imagine they would go pretty well."

"That's a great idea. Now, finish your lunch and go home."

CHAPTER FIVE

By the time Emma turned on to Union Cemetery Road, the rain had stopped. As she passed the Danielson's house, she saw Cassie and Devin playing in the driveway. They waved toward her, but, while she usually stopped and chatted with them, she realized how weary she had become. She waved back and kept driving.

She wasn't sure why she felt so run down. She had spent many nights sleeping in tents. Maybe it wasn't a physical weariness, but an emotional one. She had tried to downplay her feelings about Bart, simply because she did not want to get her hopes up that he was real. Her elation had been so great, that it was natural she would have a drop off.

A flock of wild turkeys were milling around the feeder when she turned into her yard. They ignored her until she got out of the car, then begrudgingly made room for her to pass by.

She entered the house and dropped her purse on the kitchen table. Her phone was in her back pocket. She tried to check for replies to her email, but when she tapped the screen, discovered that the battery was dead. Ordinarily, she charged it overnight, but she has spent the last two nights in the tent. She tossed it in her purse and thought about making tea, but decided against it. What she really wanted was a long, hot shower.

Her feet felt heavy as she went up the stairs. She undressed in the bedroom, then padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When the water felt hot enough on her hand, she stepped under it.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the soothing warmth of the water as it ran down her body. A memory came to her. Greg had loved to make love in the shower. She complied, but she never really cared for it. There wasn't really enough room for both of them to strand under the stream, and she always ended up feeling chilled, even before the hot water eventually ran out.

She had the shower to herself now, and relaxed to the point where she nearly dozed off. When her balance became wobbly, she snapped awake and turned off the water. As she dried herself, she realized that she was softly humming. Why do birds suddenly appear...

"That's going to be stuck in my head now," she muttered with a chuckle.

Her robe was hanging from the back of the bathroom door. She put it on and crossed the hall to the bedroom.

"Hello, beautiful," she said, looking at the bed. She stood at its foot for a moment, then flopped down face first. She lay there for few minutes, just enjoying its softness, then crawled forward until her feet no longer dangled off the end.

I should check my email again, she thought, but she did not want to get back up. Besides, anyone replying would most likely contact both her and Zach, and if they did, he'd certainly call her.

She realized he'd probably call anyway. Bev had been right. He had kissed her at the first opportunity. What made him think she would welcome his kiss, she wondered, was she sending him some unconscious signal?

She thought about the kiss, the look in his eyes as he lowered his head, how his lips had felt on hers, the slight taste of coffee that lingered on them.

But it had not just been a kiss, she remembered. It had been two kisses.

"I kissed him back," she whispered to herself. It had been nothing more than a quick peck, but what was it really? A thank you? A request for more?

She imagined the kisses continuing. She imagined her lips parting, his tongue exploring her mouth. His arms holding her close, her hands running up his back and pulling him closer still.

She remembered her silly fantasy about climbing the stairs to his bedroom. It did not feel so silly now. He would have welcomed her, that much had become obvious. When she tried to picture his naked body, she flashed on the moment when he had come out of the house, his open shirt flapping in the breeze. She had been too excited about Bart to pay much attention, but his chest had looked firm and taut.