When Elsa opened her eyes, she found Danielle standing a few yards away. She was staring at the dog.
“Would you like to pet Barney? He’s very friendly.”
The girl reached out, and Barney sniffed the offered hand. A smile turned her serious face pleasant. “He’s very friendly,” she said, repeating not just Elsa’s words but her inflection as well.
“He belongs to Mr. Dupont, one of the men working at the mansion. And how is George these days?”
Danielle looked over her shoulder at the pool building. A crow stood on the porch, staring back at her while remaining a safe distance from Barney. “He’s fine.”
“Is that him?”
“Yes. He likes to watch and see what I do.”
“You are sure that’s the same crow?”
The bird flapped up and flew into the trees to perch from a branch. Danielle continued to pet Barney between the ears. “He has his own way of turning his head, and there’s a bend in his tail the others don’t have.”
Elsa was stunned. Not only at Danielle’s level of observation, but that she and George maintained some kind of relationship even outside the context of the food she left for him outside her cottage. “Ever considered a career in ornithology? The study of birds?” She was only half joking. Truly, the girl was a natural.
“That’s what you do.”
“Yes. Listen, Danielle. Do you hear that song? ‘Chick-a-dee-dee-dee ... chick-a-dee-dee-dee.’”
Danielle cocked her head, listening. “Yes. That’s why they call thePoecile atricapillusa chickadee. They come to feeders but never stay and eat there. They always carry the seeds somewhere else to eat or hide away.”
“That’s exactly right. Did you know a single chickadee can store a thousand seeds a day as he prepares for winter? And he can remember where he hid his food six whole months later. I can’t remember where I’ve put my handbag half the time! And those little birds—their brains are only twice the size of a pea.”
Danielle came and sat by Elsa on the bench, Barney following her. “Tell me more.”
Elsa smiled. The chickadee was so common, people never came to the museum asking to learn about it. But it was one of her favorite little creatures. “Listen to that song again.” After a few moments, she explained, “That sound is a signal that there is a predator waiting motionless nearby. Maybe perched on the roof of the pool building or on a tree limb. Even other species listen when the chickadees signal a hawk or an owl is near. Squirrels, for example, depend on their arial warning system. The number of dees in its song communicates how dangerous it is. The more dees there are, the greater the threat.”
Danielle’s eyes widened. “That means the bigger the predator?”
“One would think so, but in this case, no. The smaller predators are more agile and quicker and, therefore, more dangerous than bigger, cumbersome ones. These calls from the chickadees are actually recruiting reinforcements to mob or harass the predator. Let’s watch and see what happens.”
Sunshine warmed Elsa as they waited in silence, alert for drama and action. Her heart beat quickly, either anticipating thescene about to unfold or still recovering from her ill-advised run. She told herself it was the former.
Soon a few chickadees swarmed together and mobbed a hawk until it gave up and flew away.
Danielle laughed. “Run off by such little things!”
Elsa laughed with her. “Their size doesn’t matter when they band together with friends. That’s not so different from people, right? Do you have a friend you band together with when you need help?”
“I told you. I have George.”
“Oh yes, of course. But I meant of theHomo sapienvariety.”
Danielle made no reply, and Elsa decided not to press. If the girl didn’t have friends her age, the last thing Elsa wanted to do was pour salt in that wound by pointing it out. Perhaps there had been other children of servants who worked here, and they moved away when Birdie died. Perhaps Danielle had lost more with the old woman’s passing than Elsa had realized.
The sound of the approaching truck turned her head. It rolled to a stop, the engine cut off, and Luke hopped out and walked toward them.
“Speaking ofHomo sapiens,” Elsa said to Danielle, “this is Mr. Dupont, Barney’s owner. Luke, this is Danielle Petrovic. She has a crow named George. You just missed him, but he’ll be back, I’m sure.”
Luke approached, and Barney ran to his side, clearly eager to be with his master again. “Nice to meet you, Danielle. You can call me Luke.”
She glanced up at him but didn’t shake the offered hand or meet his gaze. “What happened to your face?”
Just like that, she posed the question Elsa had been wondering but couldn’t justify asking. The tone, at least, had been one of innocent curiosity, not disgust or revulsion. Still, the timing was abrupt.
