A Nest for Celeste (13 page)

C
eleste hopped onto the desk and glanced around the room. She was ecstatic to be back in Joseph’s room, where things looked and smelled and felt comforting. Her heart felt a twang when she saw Joseph’s shirt hanging from its wooden peg. Cornelius was perched in the cage, head tucked under
his wing, eyes closed. Celeste heard soft breathing coming from the cot, where she could see Joseph draped, sound asleep.

She squeaked up at the cage. “
Psst!
Cornelius!”

Cornelius opened one eye.

Celeste tried again. “It’s me!”

Cornelius leaped up with a start, calling from his cage. “Well, look what the cat dragged in!” he chirped.

“Quiet! I don’t want to wake anyone!”

Cornelius glanced over at the cot. “Hey,” he whispered, “I’ve been worried sick! Where in the world have you been?”

“Well, it’s quite a tale, involving lightning, wind, lots of rain, mud, almost drowning, and an osprey.” Celeste sighed.

There was a creaking from the cot. Joseph was turning over in his sleep.

“Here, a present for you,” whispered Celeste.

“Dogwood berries!” chirped the thrush. “You remembered!”

“Help me get this branch into your cage.”

She poked one end of the branch into the cage, and Cornelius eagerly plucked several berries, gobbling them down two at a time.

Celeste whispered, “Now, pull! Pull your end!”

“Pull? Pull it where? What are you trying to do?” Cornelius asked.

“You’ll see. Just keep pulling until I say stop!”

They pulled and pushed until the dogwood branch was in the cage. With one final shove, Celeste sank the chewed end into the brass water dish.

“Hey! That’s my drinking water!” exclaimed Cornelius.

“Keep your voice down! Now, listen. The next time Joseph starts to sketch, sit right about here,” said Celeste, pointing to a spot on the branch. “And it wouldn’t hurt if you sang something.”

“Well, pardon me for not wanting to sing day and night! Being cooped up in this cage doesn’t exactly create the proper mood!” said Cornelius, swallowing another berry.

“Just try. Strike a pose. Sing. He’ll love it.”

“Like this? You can’t be serious!” Cornelius perched on the dogwood branch and preened his primary and secondary feathers, adjusting them perfectly, and lifted his head as though to sing.

“That’s perfect. Promise me!”

“All right, all right! I promise!”

The nearby snoring stopped, and Joseph sat up. He scratched his head as he shuffled over to his desk, then let out a gasp.

“Little One!” he cried. “You came home! Where have you been?”

He gathered up Celeste and cradled her next to his cheek, stroking her and giving her tiny kisses on her ears. “I have missed you so much! You’re a brave little
critter to come home to me!”

Celeste burrowed between his palms and wriggled rapturously, relishing the warmth and safety of his gentle hands. Joseph found a few peanuts for her, then slipped her into her usual spot in his shirt pocket.

Smiling, he then peered into the little wooden cage. “Good mornin’ to you, my friend!” he said to Cornelius. “Here’s a little present!” From a dish on his desk he retrieved several ripe but somewhat squished blackberries. “Here you go. Eat up!”

Cornelius eyed the berries.

“Come, my friend, you have to eat and keep up your strength. We’re counting on you for a fine painting, you know. If only I could get the background right…Hey! I see Mr. Audubon added a branch to your little home. This would make a good background for the painting.” Joseph went to the desk and gathered up some pencils.

Celeste squeaked from the shirt pocket, “
Psst!
Cornelius! Now’s the time!”

Cornelius hopped gracefully onto the dogwood branch, fluttering a bit. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to sing.

Out came the liquid, gurgling stream of silvery notes so sweet and fluid that Joseph dropped his pencils.

“My Lord…such music!” Joseph whispered just as Cornelius sang again. The song, a mixture of sweetness and melancholy, swirled through the room like a cool breeze.

Joseph immediately took up drawing materials again and then sat in a chair in front of the cage. This time as he worked there was no eraser needed; graceful lines of dogwood leaves flowed from his eyes and down into his hand, then out onto the paper. As Joseph worked, Cornelius lifted his head to sing again. Joseph smiled and attacked his work with even greater enthusiasm.

The paint box came out next. Soon the page was covered with the soft greens of the leaves and bright reds of the dogwood berries.

There was a knock at the door, and Audubon stepped into the room.

“Working so early, Joseph?” he asked.

“Yes,
monsieur
,” he replied. “The morning light and…everything…was just right.”

Audubon stood in front of the thrush painting. His brows arched up.

“Ah…Joseph. I see my instruction has inspired you. This is beautiful. Your dogwood is perfect.”

Joseph stepped back from his work. It
was
perfect. The wood thrush in the painting was now at home among the leaves and twigs of the dogwood tree, and Joseph could see that it was just right.

He smiled at the wood thrush. “Thank you, Mr. Thrush!” he whispered.

Celeste smiled. Her plan had worked.

T
he crickets and cicadas were beginning their chorus. Supper was being served downstairs in the dining room.

Celeste balanced her way up the dogwood branch, using it like a ladder to reach the cage door latch. The branch was just tall enough. “Hey!” she squeaked in delight. “The wire is gone! What happened?”

The twisted wire that had held the cage door closed had been replaced by a small length of rope, looped and knotted several times around the twigs.

“Good news! The wire snapped when the boy was opening the cage yesterday, so he latched the door with a piece of rope.” Cornelius explained. “Isn’t that better? Can you untie it, or nibble through it?”

“You bet I can!” It took a while, but Celeste bit and yanked, chewed and gnawed until finally the cage door swung open.

“Freedom!” Cornelius trilled. In a flash he was through the cage door and circling the room.

Celeste leaped over to the drawing desk, and
Cornelius settled near her on the windowsill.

They looked at the watercolor painting on the desk: a wood thrush was stretching up to eat a dogwood berry. The painting was soft, with cinnamon browns and forest greens.

“It looks just like me,” marveled Cornelius.

“It does, indeed. Now you’ll live forever in a painting.”

“Maybe he’ll paint you next…. When I come back, you can show me your portrait!”

“Come back? Come back from where? Where are you going?”

Cornelius looked earnestly at his friend. “I’m going away, flying south. I go away this time every year. I’m leaving very soon; in fact, that’s why it’s so perfect that I’m out of that cage now.”

Celeste felt panicky. “But why? Why do you have to go?”

“We all go,” Cornelius replied. “All the wood
thrushes. We go to where it’s summertime all year round.”

A group of thrushes suddenly flew into the magnolia outside, spilling among the branches and chattering. Celeste and Cornelius looked at each other.

“Well, I guess this is farewell, for now,” Cornelius said.

Celeste hadn’t counted on this. She was nearly overwhelmed with a heaviness of heart; she was going to miss her friend. Her eyes began to burn, and a tiny tear spilled out.

“Yes, I guess so,” she replied. Her throat tightened, and her ears folded back. “When will you be back?”

“In the spring.” But Cornelius seemed distracted and slightly agitated. There was something
powerful inside him, a compass in his brain, telling him:
Fly south.

Celeste scrambled up the drapes to the sill. She looked at the thrush for a moment and held out her paw to stroke the soft feathers of his cheek.

Cornelius stretched one wing, then the other. His eyes were bright. He spread his tail feathers, testing them. He was ready to go. He needed to go; instinct was telling him so.

“Good-bye,” he said softly. “And thank you. You’re a good friend.”

His wings opened; and he dropped from the sill, arching dizzily in the air below the window, then out and beyond the garden hedges, gathering with the other thrushes. The flock of them circled around, and Cornelius looked back to glance once more at Celeste. He called out, “Good-bye! Good-bye! See you in the spring!” and off he flew, flapping and looking very happy, almost giddy.

Celeste watched the flock of thrushes get smaller and smaller. She tried to follow Cornelius with her eyes, but the birds crisscrossed and wove among one another in the air, and soon she couldn’t tell which of the tiny, disappearing dots was her friend.

Was this a part of friendship, too? The hardship of saying good-bye? Suddenly her eyes blurred…but just as suddenly her skin felt prickly. Her whiskers twitched.

She wasn’t alone.

She looked down.

Something had heard her cries. There was the cat, eyes black and focused, hind legs poised and ready to lunge.