Page 72 of Theo of Golden

Theo knew the textbook explanation, but instead of answering, he turned the question on Ellen. “You tell me. Where does night come from?”

“Tom came up with it. He says there are five billion trees in the world. Don’t ask me who counted them. I don’t know but probably somebody at National Geographic. Anyway, Tom says that under every single tree, there is some shade, like those trees over there.”

Ellen pointed across the river. “Look at all that shade. And at the end of every day, the shade crawls out from under the five billion trees and gets above the trees, and that’s what makes nighttime.”

She chuckled. “I know that’s not very scientific, but I like the way that little boy thinks. Tom.”

“Ellen, remind me who Tom is.”

“He’s Douglas’s brother. In Dandelion Wine. They ride all over Green Town on their bikes. And they think Leo Huffman invented the bicycle, so they ask him to invent a Happiness Machine too.”

Theo nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Ellen frowned at him.

“You have read Ray Bradbury, haven’t you? If you haven’t, you need to talk to Tony.”

Theo made a mental note. Read Dandelion Wine.

“Mr. Theo, Tony told me you like to watch birds. Is that true?”

“It is true. Ever since I was a boy, I’ve enjoyed birds. I even keep a list of them. I have seen some beautiful varieties here in Golden. And you?”

“I don’t keep a list, but I like them a lot. Even though they can be pretty cruel sometimes. And when Atticus says it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird because all they do is sing, well, tell that to the bluebird mama who can’t feed her babies because Miz Mockingbird the Hun keeps dive-bombing her. They act worse than people sometimes.”

Theo was impressed once again by Ellen’s literacy and power of observation.

Dive-bombing.

He had never thought of bird flight in that way before, but he had to admit the term was a precise description of what mockingbirds did. He would add that to his own thesaurus of bird flight: martins dance (“they fly in cursive”), meadowlarks explode (“they rise like geysers”), and starlings sprint (as do those with a guilty conscience, “though no one pursues”).

“Mr. Theo, we are now going to begin our tour.”

Theo’s eyes widened at Ellen’s announcement. He was unaware that a tour was on the schedule.

“I wanted to do something nice for you since you gave me a portrait, but I can’t afford to buy you a present, so I have planned a special bird excursion.”

Theo thanked Ellen. He had no idea what such an excursion might entail.

“You’re welcome. Now, follow me. We’ve got to get closer to the river. I’ll lead the way. It’s not too hard to get there.”

They walked to the lip of the bluff and stepped carefully, just a short drop, over the edge. Their bicycles remained in view as they navigated their way through vines and underbrush — smilax, wild muscadine, blackberry, sensitive briar — in search of a destination known only to one of them.

“There it is.”

Ellen pointed to a piece of pink ribbon on a waist-high stem of lespedeza. It was just below a vertical bank of sandy clay, a bank covered with low grasses and running vines. Theo had heard that poisonous snakes thrived in such places and wondered if he might be in the neighborhood of one. Ellen was clearly unconcerned.

She stopped, knelt down, motioned Theo over, pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket, and pointed it at a barely-noticeable depression in the riverbank. “Look.”

Theo did as he was told, hands on knees, just as an angry kingfisher landed on a nearby branch and began to scold them noisily.

“Don’t worry about him, Mr. Theo. Look, right there.”

Theo peered into a three-foot-long burrow that had been dug into the dirt bank. He counted six small birds, a mixture of pink skin, new feathers, and long blackish bills.

“I have never seen a nest like this one before, Ellen. I’ve seen adult birds but never a nest. How did you find it?”

The adult bird continued its noisy protest.

“They nest around here every year. When I lived on the river, I would watch ‘em and try to find their nests. The closer you get, the more the mama and daddy get all agitated, and that’s when you know you’re close. Sometimes the tunnel is so long you can’t see the babies, but you can hear them peepin’.”