“What’s this? What have you found?” A park official in uniform joined the small cluster of the owl’s admirers, lifting his own binoculars. “There you are,” he muttered. To the people, he said,“You have no idea how wily this bird has been. I can’t believe we haven’t been able to catch him yet.”
Rising from the bench, Elsa introduced herself and learned his name, as well. When Luke stood and shook his hand, the park official flinched at his scars. Luke didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m an ornithologist with the American Museum of Natural History,” she added. “Can you tell me why you’re so keen to capture the owl, Jim?”
He spared her only a glance before fixing his attention on the bird again. “The enclosure is all repaired and waiting for its resident to return.”
“I see.” Elsa spied a mosquito landing on Luke’s back and brushed it off for him. “It would appear the former resident of the menagerie has a new address. One that doesn’t pen him inside a space the size of a bus stop.”
“Let Zeus be free!” the boy said, and the other two nodded their agreement.
“Look, folks.” Jim lifted his hands to quiet them. “That owl may look all right to you now, but our concern is that he may starve to death. All he has known for the last twelve years is that menagerie enclosure. It can’t fly well—”
“And whose fault is that?” the older woman interrupted. “How could he practice when he’s been cooped up for twelve years?”
“Irrelevant,” Jim said. “Menagerie staff have told me Zeus is not a good flier, and he doesn’t know how to hunt.”
“Because his food has been delivered to him for more than a decade,” Luke said. “Correct?”
“I’d like to hear more from the ornithologist.” The man clasped his son’s shoulder and looked at Elsa. “What do you think this owl’s chances are in the wild? Or at least, as wild as Central Park can be?”
A few more people joined their small cluster, spotting the owl with their own exclamations.
“I think—wait a minute, let’s watch.” Elsa focused on Zeus and sensed everyone else do the same.
The predator’s attention was clearly fastened on some kind of prey. In the next moment, he swooped down to the ground, out of sight behind some bushes. Then just as quickly, it emerged again, a rodent in its talons. Landing on the roof of the Ladies Pavilion, the owl swallowed it whole.
The small group cheered for the owl, and Elsa laughed with delight to have witnessed such a hopeful event. “As I was saying,” she said, “the owl deserves a chance to prove that he’ll be all right. He may adjust far better than any of us think.”
Zeus took flight again, disappearing from view within moments.
Elsa turned to Luke. “Wasn’t that fun?”
“Very.” He smiled. “Since nothing can beat it, how about I see you home?” He offered his arm, and she took it. “Come on, chickadee.”
“Is that what I am?” she asked on a laugh, as charmed as she was surprised.
“That’s the kind of bird that bands together against a foe, right?”
Chickadees weren’t the only ones who did that, but she knew what he meant. He remembered Danielle repeating Elsa’s lesson after the storm. Elsa smiled, filling with warmth at this man’s unexpected gentleness and care. “Yes.”
“Then yes, you are my chickadee. And I’ll be yours.” He winked, and she felt lighter than air.
CHAPTER
13
Fireflies blinked above the grass and against the shadows gathering among the trees. As Luke and Elsa began walking through The Ramble, she pointed out more birds. When she did, three of the people who had gathered to watch Zeus asked to walk with them so Elsa could be their guide. By the time they reached the park’s edge, they’d collected more, until their little group had grown to eight people.
“Do you do this often?” asked the older woman who smelled of citronella.
Elsa smiled. “This is the first time I’ve led a group, but I come here quite a bit for my own pleasure.”
“You’re kidding.” The man in the straw hat snapped another photograph. “What luck! Junior and I are in town visiting today before we head back to Indiana tomorrow. Thanks for making our romp through Central Park special.”
The older woman tapped her binoculars. “Well, I’m local. I’d love to do this again if you would consider it. I’ve tried bird-watching here a dozen times and never saw half so much as I did with you. And what I did see, I had no idea what I was looking at.”
What a shame that was! “My colleague Mr. Griscom wrote an excellent article this summer about bird-watching in Central Park,” Elsa told her. “I’m sure you could find a copy at the library if you’re interested. That might help you in the future.”
