Searching for Bird Number Ten

By Lynea Bowdish • Illustrated by Shelley Matheis

Science isn’t my best subject. So when Mr. Parran said that our next class project was bird identification, I was glad. How hard could it be to identify a bird? If it has feathers, it’s a bird. This project was made for me, right? Wrong!

We each had to identify ten birds. Mr. Parran said that meant we had to study all the details of the bird. We would then be able to name it. I’m not too good at seeing details, even with my glasses on.

Then Mr. Parran took us on a field trip. I’m not too good at field trips either. I’m the one who loses my permission slip or forgets my lunch. This trip wasn’t any better.

“Wear dull clothes,” Mr. Parran had told us. “Bright colors will scare off the birds.”

That day all my clothes were in a heap on my bedroom floor, waiting to be washed. I had to wear an orange T-shirt.

“No sunglasses,” Mr. Parran said. “They’ll distort the colors.”

But I always wear prescription sunglasses outside, and I had left my regular glasses in my desk.

Then Mr. Parran paired us off. My partner was Carl. He belongs to the Audubon Society. I had it made!

Carl moved off into the bushes, and I followed. I tend to get lost in the woods, so I stuck close. I stepped on his heels a few times.

Carl looked, listened, looked, and listened again.

“A sharp-shinned hawk,” Carl whispered finally.

“Wow, that’s great!” I shouted. “Where is it?”

Carl winced, put his finger to his lips, and nodded at a distant pine tree. I balanced my bird book between my knees and tried to get the binoculars up to my eyes.

By then the bird was gone.

The next time I’d be ready, I told myself. I put the binoculars up to my eyes, clenched the book between my knees, and hobbled after Carl. I didn’t see the briars in front of me. Luckily, I fell over them, not into them.

I finally decided it was easier to stand still, look in the same direction as Carl, and take his word for what kind of bird we saw. We identified seven birds this way. I had to find three more by myself over the weekend.

The first two were easy. There were lots of sparrows at the feeder in the front yard. Carl hadn’t even bothered looking at sparrows on our field trip. And the cardinal under the feeder was easy, too. My mother’s writing paper has cardinals all over it, so I knew what they looked like. But I was still missing Bird Number Ten.

It was a sunny afternoon, and warm. I made a cheese sandwich, took it into the living room, and propped open the front door to let in the air. Then I turned on the TV.

I like to look at TV without the sound, just to watch the actors. I want to be an actor myself someday, and it’s a great way to study technique. The only thing I heard was my own chewing and a few noises drifting through the open door—sparrows scratching in the gravel outside.

And then I heard a different sound—chirping, and loud.

I looked up. Inside the front door, a bird scurried around on the bare floor, pecking at the dust. It wasn’t a sparrow. It wasn’t a cardinal. It was Bird Number Ten.

I jumped up to look for the binoculars. Startled, the bird flew up, darted into the living room, and settled on top of the TV.

The bird had its back to me. It moved with nervous little side steps across the top of the television. I saw the binoculars right next to the TV—right next to the bird.

I could hear Mr. Parran’s instructions in my mind: Move up on the bird when it’s not looking at you.

I couldn’t get the binoculars, but I could get a closer look. I held my breath and took one giant step across the room.

With my second step, Number Ten turned around. I froze.

Notice the size, Mr. Parran coached. Then compare it with something you know, like a sparrow.

It was smaller than the remote control, but bigger than what was left of my cheese sandwich.

What is its shape? Mr. Parran whispered.

Kind of round, I thought.

Don’t forget color.

I squinted through the living room shadows. Reddish brown. And lighter underneath.

The bird turned sideways. I saw a white stripe over its eye—what had Mr. Parran called it?

An eye stripe, he hissed. Now what about the shape of its tail?

I looked. The end of the tail was round. But something was wrong. The tail stuck up at an angle. Was it broken?

Think about the chart I showed you, Mr. Parran reminded me.

I thought. Wasn’t there a bird that cocked its tail like that?

“Aha,” I shouted. “A wren!”

The bird flew up in a frenzy of feathers and flapping wings. It darted once around the room, flashed to the door, and was gone.

As I said, science isn’t my best subject. And I have to learn to be more quiet. But I was right—it was a Carolina wren, according to the book. As I added Number Ten to my list, I could almost feel Mr. Parran looking over my shoulder and nodding approvingly. Bring on the next science project, I thought. I’m ready.