Wild Birds of Maine

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'll do it."

She took a couple of deep breaths and stepped outside. Bev was directing the cameraman to get a shot of the sign.

Carly checked her make up in the van's side view mirror. She straightened the lapels of her jacket, tugged her sleeves down and smiled as if she was practicing.

"All right," she said, "If I could have the two of you stand over here. Emma, next to me, and Zach, if you'll go around the other side."

She moved in close to Emma, then put her hand to the earpiece in her right ear and stared blankly at the camera. After a few seconds, the cameraman gave her a thumbs up gesture, and the smile magically reappeared on on her face.

"I'm here in lovely MicMac Falls," she said, raising a microphone to her face, "where everyone is talking about this exciting discovery."

Emma raised one eyebrow, wondering who was doing all that talking.

"I have Zach Anderson with me. Zach discovered the bird in his backyard in Winterboro. And bird expert Emma Weaver, who took these exciting photographs and made the surprising identification. So, Zach, what made you notice this unusual bird?" she asked, reaching the mic toward him.

Zach cleared his throat and said, "Well Carly, I mean I'm not an expert like Emma is, but I enjoy feeding the birds in my yard and I watch them every morning. This bird was one I hadn't seen before, so I tried to find it on some of the sites online and I couldn't." He looked over at Bev. "So I decided to come over to Wild Birds of Maine in MicMac Falls and see if I could get some help."

Carly moved the microphone in front of Emma. "So, Emma, you're the co-owner here at Wild Birds of Maine, and quite an expert on bird identification."

"Well, I've been a birder and a wildlife photographer for about fifteen years..."

"And when you saw Zach's picture you were able to tell what kind of bird it was?"

"I knew it was something out of the ordinary. It didn't appear in any of my guides, but it seemed familiar to me, and I realized I had seen it in Audubon's Birds of America. It matched his illustration of Bartlett's sparrow."

"But that was an extinct bird."

"Thought to be, yes."

"So, you decided you needed to get some better pictures." She giggled. "No offense, Zach. But you needed more proof that it was a Bartlett sparrow."

"Right," Emma said, "So I staked out Zach's yard until I could get good high resolution pictures."

"And now what happens?"

"Well, we don't have an official confirmation yet..."

Carly put her hand to her ear again. "Okay," she said. "Bob Benson in the studio is wondering how often does this happen, that a species that everyone believes is extinct turns out to still be around?"

"This would be the fifth time," Emma replied.

"Fifth time in the United States?"

"Fifth time in the world."

"Wow. And right here in charming little MicMac Falls. Well, thank you both so much," she said, shaking hands with Zach and Emma.

Looking back to the camera, she said, "So, keep your eyes on those bird feeders, folks, you never know what you might see."

"We're out," the cameraman said.

Bev clapped her hands and gave two thumbs up.

"Thank you both," Carly said, "And your store is just charming."

Emma smiled and thanked her, knowing that she'd never gone inside.

The cameraman packed up his gear, while Carly got back in the van. The newspaper reporter asked Zach about the confirmation process. Zach shrugged and turned to Emma.

"This is out of my league," he said.

"I assume that the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife will send out their own observers," Emma told the reporter, "Probably post some cameras, try to get pictures of their own. I would assume that because of the endangered species act there will be some federal involvement, but I don't know how that works, you'll have to ask them."

"All right, thanks," he said.

As he walked away, Emma elbowed Zach's arm. "So much for you doing all the talking," she said with a chuckle.

"So much for you being too introverted to do it."

Emma frowned. "It was hard though, Zach."

"I understand."

"I know that you think you do."

Zach look down at his feet. "Well, I need to get to work."

"All right," Emma said. She struggled to think of what else to say and settled for "Have a good day."

Zach walked back to his car with his shoulders hunched. As she watched him drive away, Emma felt like she had kicked a puppy.

The store's phone started ringing almost immediately. A steady flow of customers soon followed. Most of them were interested in prints of Bart or any other Bartlett's sparrow merchandise. Bev started taking orders for prints and T-shirts.

The Portland Press Herald and the Waterville Sentinel called and Emma answered the same questions she had given to the reporter from Bangor. The president of the Kennebec Valley Birders Association wanted to know when it might be possible for their members to try to get a look at the Bartlett. Just before lunchtime, Zach called to let her know that the game wardens would be staking out his yard the next morning.

"By the way," he said, "Your tent is still here."

"They can use it if they'd like," she replied. After several seconds of silence, he said "Okay, I'll let them know that. Talk to you later."

Bev called Adam and asked him to pick up a pizza for their lunch. He delivered it with a broad smile on his face.

"You guys made the big time," he shouted, "Carlton, at MicMac Variety, said his wife called and told him that her mom saw you on CNN!"

"Oh, christ," Emma moaned, but Bev clapped her hands with glee. She shook Emma's shoulders.

"Honey, you are going to be famous!" she said, and kissed the back of Emma's head.

Emma wanted to throttle Zach. Every birder in the country is going to be traipsing around Maine, looking for Bart, she thought.

Business tapered off in the afternoon, enough to allow Bev to spend some time in the backroom, making business calls. She arranged to have postcards and matted prints of Bart made, and upped her orders on some of the store's more popular items, in anticipation of increased sales.

"Hey, what do you think about refrigerator magnets?" she called to Emma, who continued to work the counter.

"I find them attractive."

"Haha. Because they are magnetic. I get it. Well, I'm going to order some."

"Fine, as long as you don't put a picture of me on them."

"Oh, and when Lily gets home from school, I'm going to have her update our website, and Facebook and all that."

Just before closing time, a squat, balding man in a business suit entered the store. Emma thought he looked familiar. He wore a chickadee stick pin in his lapel.

He approached the counter and nodded sharply at Emma. "Your store is delightful," he said, "You are Emma Weaver, are you not?"

"I am."

He held out his hand, and Emma shook it.

"I believe we have met before," he said, "My name is Geordie Robbins. I am the executive director of the Maine Audubon Society."

"Oh, yes," Emma said with a smile, "I've been to a couple of your presentations. I remember one you gave in Portland on the nineteenth century feather trade."

Geordie smiled. "I remember you showed me some photos. Loons, weren't they?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, you probably already know it's your more recent photos that have brought me here today."

"Would you like to see more?" Emma asked. She reached under the counter for her laptop, opened the folder she had labelled "Bart" and turned the screen toward him.

A woman approached the counter, carrying a pair of mugs decorated with painted goldfinches. Emma took care of her purchase while Geordie perused the pictures.

"Remarkable," he said, "And the recording of the song? Have you verified that?"

"Not yet. I imagine the wardens are going to bring in a lot of high tech recording equipment."

"I understand they need to verify the sighting, but after looking at your pictures, I am convinced that you have, indeed, found a live Bartlett's sparrow."

"Thank you."

"Enough so, that I would like to invite you, and Mr. Anderson, of course, to give a presentation at the Society's monthly meeting, this Sunday, at Mitchell Hall at the University in Orono."

For a moment, Emma did not know what to say. While the idea of standing in front of a lecture hall full of people frightened her, she was thrilled at the thought of sharing her excitement about her discovery.

"Don't worry," Bev said from the doorway to the back room, "Lily and I can cover the store."

Before Emma could utter a word, Geordie clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Marvelous." He shook Emma's hand again and said, "We will see you on Sunday."

Before he could reach the door, Bev intercepted him, putting one of the store's business cards in his hand, and inviting him to come back to do some shopping.

When he left, she closed the door and hung the Closed sign.

Emma began to count the cash in the register drawer, but glanced up and saw Bev standing in the middle of the room, her arms crossed in front of her chest, staring at her.

"What the hell is up with you?" Bev asked.

"What do you mean?"

"This ought to be a pretty happy friggin' day for you, but you sure don't act like it."

"I've just been busy, that's all."

"Oh, horse hockey. You have been wicked pouty all day."

Emma sighed. "It's just...I don't like being the center of attention."

"Then you should have kept your little bird to yourself."

"No, I am excited about that. I want to present at the Audubon. I'm nervous about it, but...those are my people, so i'm more comfortable with it."

"But not the TV and the newspapers."

"Right, and Zach had no right to set that up without consulting me." Emma felt like she might cry, and fought to hold it back.

"Is that why you're being such a bitch to him?"

"I'm not!"

"He put his hand on your arm, and you jumped back like a snake bit you."

Now, the tears formed in Emma's eyes.

"I really like him, but he has already started making decisions for me, like I'm a child who can't take care of things for herself. Just like...just like..."

"Just like Greg did."

Emma buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Bev came around the counter and took her in her arms.

"Let it out, sweetheart," Bev said, "You've been holding that in for a long time."

Emma wiped her eyes with her hands. "It just brought back such negative feelings," she said, sniffling.

"See, I knew this wasn't about the interviews. Yeah, you're an introvert, but you could handle that."

"I suppose so."

"So, then, what's the real problem?"

Emma sat quietly for a minute, then said, "Zach and I went to dinner at Fletchers, then took a walk by the falls. And we kissed..."

"First time?"

"No, but the first time that really counted. And I felt like maybe...you know...but then he tells me about the interviews, and it wasn't really that I was mad at him for setting them up, but that it reminded me of Greg."

"Honey, Greg was a great guy in a lot of ways, but he wasn't perfect. He really did push you around about your photography. Yeah, he was proud of you, but he got off on the reflected glory, too."

"It kind of felt that way with Zach, too."

"Okay, but let me ask you. How did Zach respond when you got upset?"

"He apologized."

"Did he sound like he meant it?"

"Yes. And he offered to call them and cancel it."

"Well, I'm an old married lady, but if I was interested in some new guy, and he pissed me off, but he apologized and offered to make amends, I'd give him another chance."

Emma shrugged. "I don't know, Bev."

"Because, you still haven't gotten to the truth, the real truth."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Well, give it some thought, you need to figure it out for yourself. Now, let's close up and go home."

Emma counted the cash drawer. Bev gave the floor a quick sweep, then shut off the lights. As they passed through the back room, Bev picked up the pizza box from the table.

"There are a couple of slices left, you want them?"

"Sure, thanks," Emma said.

They went out the back door. While Bev locked it, Emma put the pizza box on the back seat of her car.

"Bev," she said, "Thanks."

They hugged, then got into their cars.

On the drive home, Emma replayed her conversation with Geordie Robbins. She had been to many Audubon meetings, seen a wide variety of intriguing presentations. It had never occurred to her that she might one day be making one of her own. What would Greg have thought of that, she wondered, but pushed the thought away.

The sun was low in the sky as she turned on to Union Cemetery Road. She could hear a cacophony of caws as the crows gathered in their roosts for the night.

Cassie and Devin were riding their bikes in the road. Emma drove past them, but when she saw Cassie waving furiously in the rear view mirror, she slowed to a stop.

Cassie pedaled up to Emma's window, her younger brother trialing behind her.

"Emma!" she said breathlessly, "We saw you and your boyfriend on the TV!"

Emma smiled, blushing, and had to stop herself from explaining to an eight year old that Zach was not her boyfriend.

"Can we go see the new bird?" Devin asked.

"It's not a new bird, honey, it's just a bird nobody has seen in a long, long time."

"I wanted to go over by your house and look for it," Cassie told her, "But Devin is scared to ride by the graveyard."

Emma grinned. It had only been months since Cassie had been just as afraid.

"No, I'm sorry," she told them. "The bird isn't here, it's at my...friend's house in Winterboro."

"Is that far away?" Devin asked.

"Not too far."

"Will you take us there sometime?"

"Maybe. It is very hard to see him though."

"Okay," Cassie said, "But will you teach us the names of all the birds?"

"I'd love to."

"Okay. But we have to go eat supper now."

The children turned their bikes and headed toward home. Emma watched them in the mirror until they disappeared up their driveway, then drove the last few yards to her house.

After changing into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, she took her laptop and a can of Diet Coke out to the porch.

She opened her email. "Oh, good god," she muttered when she saw that she had 123 unread messages. A few were the usual spam, but from their titles, she could see that most of them were in response to her television appearance. She scrolled through the list, picking out those that looked important. There was one from the National Audubon, expressing their avid interest in her discovery, and one from Geordie Robbins confirming the details of Sunday's meetings. The American Ornithological Society and the Cornell Lab had written, seeking more information.

The Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife had sent her the details of their plans to surveille Zach's yard.

Two of the Portland television stations, and one from Manchester, New Hampshire inquired about interviews.

There was one email from Zach. It simply read "Here's a link to the TV interview, if you want to see it. You did great."

She thought about clicking the link, but hesitated. The left over pizza was still in her car. She set the computer down and went to get it, knowing as she did so that she was deliberately stalling on watching the interview, afraid that she would be embarrassed by it.

She ate the cold pizza while reading the rest of the emails. Most were from birders, some she knew, the majority were strangers. Nearly all were congratulatory. Two were not. One accused her of faking the sighting for fame and fortune. The other believed that she was part of a socialist conspiracy to use alleged sightings of endangered species to seize the land of law abiding patriots.

When she finished reading all the other emails, she went back to Zach's. Whether she watched the video or not, she had to let him know about the Audubon meeting. Rather than respond to him directly, she scrolled back and found the message from Geordie. She forwarded it to Zach with a note that simply read "Hope you can make it." She hit send, and immediately regretted it.

Whether Zach went to the Audubon meeting or not, she needed to start thinking about her presentation. She did a Google search on Bartlett's sparrow and spent the next hour lost in her research, gathering whatever facts she could about the little bird. It had never been common, and there wasn't a lot of information on it. She downloaded a high definition version of the Audubon plate, and found two more sketches by Wilson Alexander and Charles Lucian Bonaparte. She would have to create a slideshow, but she decided to wait until tomorrow to start.

She sat in the dark, the only light the glow from the computer screen. Junebugs buzzed and banged against the porch screen. Once more, she opened Zach's email. This time, she clicked on the link. Her browser opened on the Action News webpage. The headline read "Sparrow Long Thought Extinct Discovered In Maine Town." Below it she saw her picture of Bart in a video window. She clicked on the arrow and had to watch an ad for a furniture store in Brewer before she could see the news story.

Bev must be thrilled with this, she thought when she saw the opening shot. Carly Cameron took up half the screen, with the Wild Birds of Maine sign perfectly framed over her shoulder.

She cringed when the camera drew back and she saw herself on the screen. I should have put on some makeup, she thought. Zach looked good though, he seemed as relaxed as if he did a television interview every day. As she watched herself answer Carly's questions, she felt relieved. She sounded confident and knowledgeable.

When the video ended, Emma played it again, hoping to confirm something she had noticed as she watched it. She found what had caught her eye. When Carly began questioning her, Zach took a step back. That was all, a small detail, just one step. She wondered if he had even known he was doing it. But, intentionally or not, he had yielded the spotlight to her.

Would Greg have done that? She knew that, of course, he would not have. He would have interjected, spoken over her and expressed his own thoughts.

Suddenly, Emma experienced a shift of perspective that was almost a physical feeling. She knew the truth to which Bev had alluded.

Greg had been the anchor in her life since she had been a teenager. But Greg had often run roughshod over her desires, all in the name of "what was best for her." She always forgave him, and his behavior continued. After he was gone, she kept him on a pedestal, creating a phantom Greg to continue being the anchor in her life. Now, that anchor was gone, and she was sailing into uncharted territory, within which she alone was the arbiter of her best interest.

It was not the TV interviews that had made her anxious nor the idea of presenting before the Audubon. It was facing the end of her mourning that frightened her. She was moving into a new life, a life not just without Greg, but in which his memory no longer loomed over her every waking moment. Anchors may keep you safe, but they also hold you in place.

Zach had thought he was being helpful when he notified the media. He admitted that he was wrong to not consult with her, he had apologized and tried to fix things. One small thing, that single backward step, convinced her that he was a very different kind of man.

She had been unfair to him, she should have accepted his apology with an open heart. But this was not merely a matter of forgive and forget, she mused, forgiving him opens the door to...something more.

"I want something more, " she muttered aloud.

Her cursor hovered over the reply button. She stared at it for a moment, then clicked.

"I was thinking," she wrote, "That maybe we could drive to Orono together and get dinner afterwards."