Page 24 of Years in the Making

The cage I’m looking for is about halfway down the hall, and when I arrive in front of the one I want, I’m greeted by four high-pitched klee sounds. Mr. Fitzgibbons calls to me from the highest branch in his enclosure, his right leg wrapped in a bright green bandage. The little kestrel was born at the center and recently had a run-in with a stupid moment. At least that’s what Dad’s assistant referred to it as. No one knows whathappened, but his leg was broken and now he’s spending his days in the recovery ward.

“Hey Mr. Fitzgibbons,” I coo, holding the cricket through the bars and watching as the little bird navigates his way down to me. “You seem to be getting better on one leg.” I pull my phone out and suck my teeth to get his attention, then I snap a picture to send to Teddy.

Meet my favorite raptor, Mr. Fitzgibbons.

He replies almost immediately.

Enviro Guy

My favorite Raptor will forever and always be Vince Carter.

I respond with an eye-rolling emoji and slip my phone back into my pocket.

Mr. Fitzgibbons had arrived along with an egg mate and the mother about two years ago. Someone had surrendered them from what my dad believes was a falconry program gone wrong. Mr. Fitzgibbons will live at the center for the rest of his life while his mother and sibling have gone to other bird sanctuaries that work with public education. If I had more time, I’d be slipping on a glove and pulling him out for a snuggle, but in his state rushing is the wrong course of action. So I wiggle my fingers and blow him a little kiss goodbye before dashing to the presentation room where my Dad and John have started organizing things. That’s where I find them in a heated argument about semantics, of all things.

“You can’t just throw around ‘a couple’ when you mean twice that.”

“Everyone knows a couple could mean more than two.Besides, there are more important things that I keep up here.” Dad taps his skull.

“If you told me that you were bringing a couple of people to my house, I’d prepare two extra meals. If you showed up with four extra people, I’d be short two meals. How can you remember every single fact about the fifty-three birds at the center, but you can’t keep a couple and a few straight?”

“Should I…” I gesture behind me.

“No, it’s fine, chickadee.” My dad has called me that since the day they found out Mom was pregnant, but today there’s an accompanying sigh of exhaustion attached to it.

“You know, Dad, you could head home, and John and I can finish up here.”

He eyes both of us as though we’ve got something planned, like letting all the birds out of their enclosures. Which I’ve only threatened to do once so he doesn’t have any grounds to suspect I’m about to do it now.

“Yeah, Doc, this isn’t the first time we’ve done this. Go home and rest or mow the lawn or um…” He looks over at me, clearly out of suggestions.

“Take Mom out to that antique store she likes and then go out for dinner. Next week you’re going to be way too busy to do any of that stuff.” I know I’ve won when his shoulders lower slightly. He and I both know how my mom feels about him taking on interns all summer.

He glances up at the clock. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Not could, Dad,should. You should do that.”

Two hours later, John and I finish up all the packages, put away the extras, and check in with the evening staff who are in the middle of feeding. Although check-in sounds too formal. We say quick hellos and goodbyes.

“Ready for tomorrow?” I ask as we head to the parking lot.

John sighs. “I mean, other than showing up and wearing thesuit, there isn’t a lot I need to be ready for. The girls got the tent all done today. His fiancée just told me to make sure my brother gets to the church mostly sober.”

“Low bar.” I laugh.

“He actually hasn’t had a drink all month. I think he plans on uncorking that restriction tomorrow night.”

I wince. “Oh, so it’s going to be a sloppy wedding.”

“What kind of groom wants to remember his wedding day?” John murmurs, smiling down at his phone like a moron.

“Nigel?”

He hmms in response while he taps a reply.

“He’s not going to show up as a surprise tomorrow, is he?”

John’s head snaps up, and a look of pure horror covers his face. “God, I hope not.”

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