by Dan Leonard

On the first warm Sunday in May—
still cool in morning shade,
but warming fast toward perfect—
birds of Carolina Beach State Park heard Knox tapping.

tap tap tap tap tap

PEOPLE INCOMING.
SAND RUNNERS.
DOG WALKERS.
PAIR-BONDED WANDERERS.
FISH FINDERS.
BIRD NERDS.
LOTS OF TALKING.

Crow opened one eye.

“Sunday,” he said.
“People season.”

Crow spotted a familiar flock.

One shiny rolling nest.

Two gentle checkered wolves plopped out—
soft-eyed, slow-moving,
noses busy with serious sniffing.

Mom.
Dad.
Pop—
a listener.
Kay B.
Jack.

And glowing stones
that listened for birds.

Knox tapped quickly:

tap tap tap

FIELD NOTE #2
The Listener Family landed.
Carries glowing stones.
Brings two checkered wolves.
Stops often.
Promising species.

High in green leaves,
Art listened too.

Pop had seen him early that morning—
The Painted Bunting—
blue head,
green back,
red chest—
a rainbow with feathers.

The Listener Family had come hoping.

Art smiled softly.

“That got out fast.”

They walked.
Stopped.
Walked.
Then stopped again.

Crow noticed.

“They stop often.
Good.”

Jack looked up.

“What are they doing up there?”

Pop listened a moment.
Smiled.

“Living.”

Then said—

“Every tree’s a little neighborhood.”

Crow nodded.

“Busy neighborhood.”

Dad opened Merlin.

The glowing stone listened.

CAROLINA WREN

Wren sang—
bright, bold, beautiful—
a huge happy song
from such a little bird.

Mom smiled.

“I love that bird.”

Wren puffed proudly.

“Excellent taste.”

Soon they reached the place
where the whole air seemed alive.

Warblers whispered.
Buntings sang.
Songs tumbled over songs.

A bird cafeteria.

Glowing stones nearly smoked trying to keep up.

Jack’s lit first.

“I heared one!”

Then—

“I heared another one!”

“I never got a pewee before!”

Crow nodded.

“Still loud.”

Art smiled.

“Listening.”

Mom slipped off trail.

Dad called softly, grinning:

“Where you going?”

Mom laughed from the bushes.

Crow tilted his head.

Knox tapped gently:

tap... tap...

FIELD NOTE #5
Adult female disappeared briefly into brush.
Returned lighter.

Wren:
“Private business.”

Ditto:
“Smart move.”

“I got two!” said Dad.

Kay B checked hers.

Calm.

“Twenty-seven.”

Everyone looked.

She shrugged.

“I found it sixteen-a-minutes ago.”

Then added—

“And the pretty titmouse is still my favorite.”

Jack looked up.

“A rainbow bird too?”

Knox tapped furiously:

tap tap tap

FIELD NOTE #8
Young female dominates flock statistics.

Ditto copied Dad perfectly:

“Jack, stop picking your nose.”

Crow looked over.

Jack was picking his nose.

Knox tapped:

tap tap tap

FIELD NOTE #11
Young male mines face cave.

Later—

Dad said:

“Jack, get your hands out of your pants.”

Jack kept walking.

Again—

“Jack, get your hands out of your pants.”

Jack looked down.
Looked at Dad.
Grinned.

“Okay, Daddy.”

Crow:
“Trainable.”

Knox tapped harder:

tap tap tap tap

FIELD NOTE #14
Young male stores hands in pants.
Adult male strongly objects.
Polite young male briefly complies.

Crow’s head tilted.

“Odd pocket.”

Wren shrugged.

“Probably warm.”

Then—

Jack called:

“Dad, did you see colors on those leaves?”

Dad looked at Jack.

“Jack, put your shirt back on.”

Ditto:

“Shirt back on.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Crow blinked.

Jack had removed his upper feathers.

Knox tapped slowly:

tap tap tap

FIELD NOTE #15
Young male appears cooperative.
Further observation needed.

Wren tilted her head.

“Odd molting season.”

Up ahead,
tiny ants dragged a giant dead beetle
across sand—
a little bit at a time.

The whole Listener Family crouched low.

No one spoke.

Just watched.

Crow smiled.

“Promising species.”

Dad pointed at a narrow muddy trail.

“That’s where gators walk.”

Kay B stared.

Jack leaned close.

Pop looked at Dad.

Dad grinned.

Pop grinned back.

Crow frowned.

“That is not where gators walk.”

Art smiled softly.

“Maybe.”

Near the river stood a giant driftwood fort—
sticks stacked high
around a bent little tree
like a wild wooden castle.

Jack and Kay B disappeared.

The checkered wolves inspected every corner.

Mom smiled.

“This is such a nice place.
Did Merlin hear the bunting again?”

Art nodded.

“She notices.”

Ditto sang:

“Such a nice place...”

Wren smiled.
“Agreed.”

Then a third checkered wolf appeared.

Its human waved.

“Look—twins!”

Dad grinned.

“Triplets.”

“Twins,” said the man.

Ditto copied him:

“Triplets.”

As The Listener Family walked away,
they heard laughter behind them—

“Now I get it!”

Even Crow laughed.

“Math is hard.”

Then Jack called:

“Pop!
Come look!”

Pop almost called him ahead.

Stopped.

Turned back.

Jack had climbed a little tree.

“Watch this.”

He gently bounced—
up…
down…
up…
down…
softly bending with the little tree,
dancing together.

Pop smiled.

“Nice, buddy.”

“Pop…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you heard about that one?”

“Which one?”

“The sparrow song.”

Jack smiled.
Grabbed Pop’s hand.
Ran on.

Crow watched quietly.

Art smiled.

“Joy.”

Then Jack froze.

“Look!”

His glowing stone flashed bright:

GREAT HORNED OWL

Dad knelt.

They read every word.

Huge wings.
Sharp talons.
Night hunter.
Deep wild call.

Jack shouted—

“HEY KAY B—
I GOT THE GREAT OWL!”

Crow smiled.

“Good ears.”

Later, walking quiet,
something colorful sang nearby.

Kay B looked up.

“Pop…”

“Yep?”

“A lot of different kind of birds out there.”

Pop smiled.

“Sure are.”

At the shiny rolling nest,
Dad hugged Pop.

“Thanks, Pop.”

Pop smiled.

“You know it.”

Later that same afternoon—
a glowing stone buzzed.

Another new bird.

Crow looked toward their faraway nest.

“Again?”

Art smiled.

“They wonder now.”

Knox tapped one final note:

tap tap tap

FIELD NOTE #34
People are loud.
Sticky.
Poorly feathered.
Very strange.
But some know how to stop—
listen—
look up—
wonder.

Promising species.