The Stakes are Rising as We Approach the Midpoint When Amelia Will Decide “It Is Time To Fly”
Just before the world of the chickens turns upside down!
Things will begin to get rather sad and dreary for Pearl and Amelia. They paired up together in an “unlikely alliance” for Pearl’s Comedy Coop but now the actions of The Absence of Love to turn them into performers in Professor Accipiter’s Blue Moon Bird Circus and Sideshow Extravaganza are intensifying. As unpleasant things occur, Pearl and Amelia feel overwhelmed.
Chapter 16 is one of those where “the author’s imagination got the best of him” in several places, but—and this is hugely important—Pearl cared for Blanche in the most excellent way exactly as written. She watched over Blanche tirelessly, letting her eat first and have her first choice of every treat, always at her side to watch over and protect her. Pearl’s heart is indeed priceless.
And time passed. Blanche had her good days and her not good days. Along with Pearl, the three of us learned to be grateful for small joys, for loving kindness, and for friendship.
The previous winter, their first winter when Emily and Amelia had come to live with us, had been fine with the cold weather, even with the snow. They were all extremely cautious of it the first time because it was so very new to them, but eventually Pearl found it to be a delight.
The winter when Blanche was her weakest was different. Every evening, I paid attention to the weather forecast because even the slightest change could affect how Blanche would be feeling the next day. On cold days, she moved more stiffly and more slowly. She had trouble focusing on things around her, even her favorite treats. If she had not been just a little over a year and a half old, I would have said it was simply old age.
But she made it to spring, the season of new hope. A combination of Pearl’s tender nursing skills and her personal desire not to leave Pearl by herself allowed Blanche to enjoy the garden crocuses and daffodils. And therefore, she held on to life.
Warmer spring days were the best for Blanche. She would sit or stand, facing into the corner, with her side to the sun. The warmth helped her, and the corner gave her some privacy and a feeling of protection. Maybe it helped her to concentrate on getting better, even though it alarmed Pearl’s attentiveness.
But as the flowering trees began to blossom, the warmth did not seem to help her as much. She spent more and more time to herself and sleeping.
After a difficult day, she would often surprise me by coming down the next morning as if nothing were wrong. She would have a stronger appetite and would not show any real signs of being sick. Pearl was always noticeably relieved on those good days, and her playfulness would return for a time.
There were other days when she struggled to come down the chicken ladder. In the evening, she couldn’t make her way back up again, and I would hold her for a while before placing her on her favorite roosting spot, where Pearl would be waiting.
Some evenings, when work at Uncle Buddy’s Millworks Shop caused me to get home late, Blanche would try to go up the chicken ladder, but couldn’t make it. The climb was just too much for her. Pearl would not go up into the coop without Blanche. They would silently wait for me because their good light was gone, and they had given up.
Good days or bad days, Pearl would always let Blanche have first choice of the items in their breakfast salad and then their mealworm treats. Pearl would stand back while Blanche picked through and ate her favorites. Once she seemed satisfied, then and only then would Pearl have anything to eat.
Over the weeks and months, Pearl did not think about being a comedian. She did not think about telling jokes or painting her toenails or wearing silly hats. She had made up her mind to put aside all of those things.
Then one day, Blanche asked Pearl, “Would you put on a silly hat and tell some jokes? Would you create a show just for me? It will likely make me feel better. Would you, please?”
Pearl was delighted.
“I will, Blanche! I will! It will be like the old days. You’ll see. Then you will feel so much better and just like you did in the old days, too. You’ll see!”
It took Pearl several days to get ready for her show for Blanche. Interestingly, when it was time for the show, The Laughing Gull showed up along with a young raven.
Pearl brought out a new hat creations she had been working on in secret. It looked as if it had started as a simple nurse’s cap, but it was topped with a toy thermometer and tongue depressors. Her favorite part was a plastic stethoscope wrapped in long flowing gold fringe and fancy metallic ribbons. It was her Get Well Soon Hat, the most spectacular hat she had ever made.
As expected, she did countless fake trips as she walked up to the makeshift stage I had set up for her. At least one of those little trips was real and caused by her eagerness to perform again, but she covered it up very well.
As Blanche and I sat together and watched, she ate the last of some roasted pumpkin seeds I had been saving for a special occasion. She scooted closer to me, and I scooted closer to her. Then I understood why Pearl enjoyed leaning against Blanche. Even though she was not at her best, she still felt solid and dependable.
Pearl had interlaced some new comedy material with her old, familiar “feed the chicken” jokes. Even though she had been holding back her silliness for so long, she had not lost her talent for delighting an audience. Blanche still laughed like she had when they were both little chicks, even though it seemed to bother her sides. She knew how much Pearl missed performing for an audience.
Maybe this private performance was because Blanche needed to receive some cheering up. More likely, Blanche had asked for her own special show because she knew Pearl needed to be able to give the gift of cheering up. Blanche’s wisdom was rare, silent, and deep. Perhaps allowing others to give to us is a gift we give to them.
While Pearl was dancing her final “Dipsy Doodle,” Blanche looked up at me and smiled a grateful smile, and I had the feeling she had somehow planned these last few months. She had not planned the part about being sick. We would later find out that she had fallen ill because The Absence of Love wanted to make Pearl run away and join Professor Accipiter’s circus. But Blanche had planned the part about being separated from the others.
Once the show was over, The Laughing Gull and The Small Raven flew down from their perch above in The Healing Tree and congratulated Pearl on her fine performance.
“This is a friend of mine, The Young Raven,” explained The Gull. “She is the granddaughter of The Raven With Blue Eyes. She recently became a Page in The Living Library.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Pearl. “What is your special area of knowledge? Do you know anything about hats or wild and free dancing?”
“I collect information about The Living Treasures,” said The Young Raven.
“Of all the things in this world that I have never heard of, that sounds rather interesting,” said Pearl. “Won’t you tell me some more? Unless it’s a secret, of course.”
“Much of it is a secret, but I can tell you that The Healing Tree here in your backyard garden is a Living Treasure. But that does not mean that only trees can be a Living Treasure—a bird can also be a Living Treasure. Some have thought that my grandmother, The Raven With Blue Eyes, might be one because of her special ability to see things that other birds cannot see.”
“I’ve seen her eyes, they are intensely cerulean blue, but yours are not.”
“That is true, I cannot see as she does, only as I do,” said the Small Raven enigmatically.
“What do you see?” asked Pearl.
“I see that even if Blanche leaves you, your Healing Tree will restore your broken heart with someone else to love and to be loved by equally. I do not know how it will happen or who that one will be, but I see it will happen.”
“Can The Healing Tree make sure Blanche does not leave me? If it would, I would be so genuinely grateful.”
“There is a great deal to know about Healing Trees and Living Treasures. They follow their own rules, and we must respect those rules without trying to control them. Just remember what I told you and do not give up hope.”
And with that, she flew off towards the east, towards downtown, towards where the Head Librarian lives.
“Your show was brilliant, my friend,” said The Laughing Gull. “And I see you used some of that glittering golden garland I brought to you.”
“And I never got to tell you a joke to pay you back for your gift.”
“Pearl, my dear friend, knowing your heart is the greatest gift I could ever receive. Remember what The Young Raven said. I must go now. We have a meeting with The Head Librarian.”
Pearl and I watched as The Laughing Gull hurried to catch up with The Young Raven.
Blanche left us that Easter Sunday, when it was only the two of them alone together. Out of the kindness in her heart, Blanche had struggled to stay with us for as long as she could. She knew how lost Pearl would be without her.
When I got home from church and realized what had happened, I wrapped Blanche in soft cotton and found a nice place for her in our garden under the camellias.
And so together we held in our hearts The Promise of Easter, the promise that Love makes all things new.
Hello, Amelia. I’ve heard a great deal about you,” said a voice from the hollow under the stump of the old pecan tree.
“Show yourself, and then I’ll tell you if I’ve also heard a great deal about you.”
“Surely, you’ve heard of me. I am an old friend of Gracie’s. She calls me The Sewer Rat. But I prefer to call myself un artiste de cirque, a circus performer. There is none like me, no not one.”
“I’ve heard about you, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Really, even if I’ve brought you a message?”
Amelia looked The Sewer Rat in the eyes without blinking to see if he was telling the truth or merely trying to fool her. She had heard about his tricks.
“Maybe even a life or death message?”
“Go ahead then. Deliver your message.”
“You have surely heard of The Absence Of Love and how it can not abide anything extraordinary, as well as its desire to take over this garden. Likely the others have told you about their invention which drew so much attention in the world of birds. But did they tell you that Professor Accipiter and I have been allied with The Absence Of Love to convince Gracie to come and be a performer in our Blue Moon Circus and Sideshow Extravaganza?”
“You are boring me. I’ve heard all of that before.”
“Well, did they mention to you that it was The Absence Of Love that gave Bessie the sleeping heart disease? Did they tell you that The Absence Of Love also gave a stronger sleeping heart disease to Blanche?”
Amelia was silent, hiding any shock or fear while protecting her heart.
“No. They didn’t tell you, did they,” gloated The Sewer Rat, “because they were too foolish to figure it out or ask their miserable friends, the songbirds.
“Bessie feared for Gracie’s life and broke free from the sleeping heart disease to save her, but the same thing cannot be said about Blanche. She is gone because Pearl would not join our circus. And do you know who is next on the list? It’s not you who will get the sleeping heart sickness. It’s your precious friend, Emily. The littlest and the sweetest of them all.”
Amelia fought within herself to stay calm as The Sewer Rat crept slowly from the hollow, never letting his eyes roam or blink as he continued to speak.
“We planned to get Gracie to yield by hurting Bessie, but that failed. We planned to get to Pearl by hurting Blanche, but that failed too. Blanche told her she would rather die than for Pearl to become a star in our circus. Blanche believed it was her turn to save Pearl from a miserable life in our circus because Pearl had saved her from The Scruffy Opossum.”
“It would be a miserable life, and you know it,” said Amelia defiantly.
“Nevertheless, we learned from our mistakes and failures,” continued The Sewer Rat.
“The Absence Of Love has been working on a song for some time now. It was tested the night of Pearl’s show. It had no effect on any of you as chickens. To you, it may have sounded inconsequential, like a gently whirling wind through the trees, but to The Bottle Cap Lady who watched and listened from her second floor window, it was mesmerizing. For many nights after that, she followed the directions encoded into the musical notes of the song.
“We will be using that song pattern in Professor Accipiter’s Blue Moon Circus to influence people to give us their money, but we need performers that will bring in more people.
As we say in the circus, ‘The show must go on,’ and your friend, Emily, is next to become sick unless you yield and come away with me to the circus. You are the most intelligent of the whole flock. Most Barred Rock chickens are. If you can’t dance already, you can learn. You will be amazed at what a starving bird will do for food.”
“No bird should have to perform for food. Not ever,” said Amelia. “Not even to be a star in your circus.”
“The Garden or The Circus, the choice is yours and as old as this world.” The Sewer Rat continued, “You will see for yourself in the evenings. You will see Emily turning sick, just as Blanche did. You will realize only you can save her. Then, I will come for you and take you far from this garden that is destined for ruin. Do not reject us, or your friend will pay the price for your stupid selfishness.
“Today is Trash Truck Tuesday. Including today, six days will pass, and on the next day, it will be Trash Truck Tuesday again. Then, I will return for you, ready to receive your agreeable answer. Six days, one day for each of your toes. Count them on your toes if you’d like. That’s all the time you have to decide.”
With that, The Sewer Rat darted through The Garden, across the yard, into the dark safety of the storm drain.
Later I would wish that Amelia had told me what had been going on, but I had to trust that she had her reasons for silence. All she said was, “It is almost time.”
“Amelia, I've made a bag of sunflower kernels for you,” I said, “It is just in case you decide it's time to travel far away when I'm not here.”
Amelia studied it carefully.
“There's a sturdy loop of red yarn you can put your head through. It will be easier for you to carry around your neck, and you won't lose it accidentally.”
She looked at me the way she so often would when trying to figure out what it all meant. She enjoyed solving puzzles, and getting herself lost—but not her travel bag—was a puzzle in itself.
To explain, I said, “This doesn't mean I want you to go. It just means if you do go, I want you to be able to make your journey safely.”
She nodded to show she understood.
“And Amelia, there is just one more thing I put in there. It's a little book for you with some drawings made when I was just in the first grade.”
“What is first grade?” she asked.
“First grade is like when you are just starting to learn what you need to know in life. It's like the first time you ever went outside to play on your own to discover the world.”
I paused.
“Or sort of like the map you’ve made and your desire to fly to the moon and find out if you can be lost and not afraid.”
“It sounds important. Don't you want to keep it for yourself?”
“No. I’d rather you have it. I folded it over tightly, so it won't get in your way when you are flying. Furthermore, I think it might help you if you want to come back home, but can’t.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not like any of the other stories I tell you and the others. I wrote it before I even knew you, but to me, it feels like I wrote it especially for you.
“I just want you to promise me you will only read it if you find that you are lost and want to get back home but can’t. It won’t mean much of anything to you otherwise.”
Amelia looked at the bag with its sturdy red yard and then back at me.
“Yes. I promise. I’m uncertain if I will be able to read any of the words.”
“It’s okay if you don’t know the words. I wrote it when I didn’t know very many words at all myself. The pictures will tell the story for you—if you find you need them.”
“Does your story have a name? I think every stories should have a name.”
“Not really. But if you think it needs one after you read it—if you need to read it—you can give it one. Then you can tell me what it is.”
“Sometimes, like right now, I don’t understand you.”
“It's fine when you do. It is fine when you don’t. I love you, whether you understand me or not.”
“It’s like you know I will come back to tell you the names of the story—if I leave, I mean.”
“Maybe you aren’t the only one who wants to know if you can be lost and not be afraid. I might want to know, too.”
Amelia looked surprised, but didn’t say anything.
“Perhaps you aren’t the only one who hopes to make sure you can get back home.”
“You must love me very much.”
“I do, Amelia. Indeed, I do.”
“Would you teach me to read words? And maybe write words too. I might like to write a book about my travels one day. And it would help me read your book better if I ever needed it.”
“Yes, I will. We can get started right away. I have a feeling there is a great deal already in you that is worth writing down.”
I hung her homemade travel bag with its loop of red yarn in the opening of the top Dutch door where she could get to it. All she would need to do would be to land on the highest perch designed just for her, and then fly out the top of the Dutch door. The loose loop would fit over her head as she flew out and away. It would carry the only gifts I could give her for her journey. There were sunflower kernels for her body and a book for her heart.
And so, Amelia began to learn to read and write. There was no need to teach her how to make the letters. She had watched me enough and had a natural talent for making marks, as all chickens do. She learned a dozen words, the words I thought might be most useful for her.
Then there was no more time.
One morning, while I was preparing an extra helping of breakfast salad, I heard the brakes of the trash truck squealing as it stopped to collect from the trash cans set out by the road. It was a sound I heard every week.
But then, I heard the click of a metal catch releasing, and then the gentle swing out of the top Dutch door.
It seemed like an eternity before I heard the sharp sound of wood slamming against wood and the secure clack of the second catch.
I placed the extra vegetables back into the refrigerator. We would not need any more breakfast salad. Then I went to check on Emily, she had not been feeling well over the last few days. By the end of that day, there was a marked improvement, and she no longer appeared sleepy, tired, and sluggish the way Blanche once had.
In Closing…
I am extremely grateful to my mother for saving a stack of my First Grade writing and drawing worksheets. Who would have ever imagined that later—over a half century later—one of those worksheets would be incorporated or woven into a novel that I would write. The past lays the path for the future. This will same first grade worksheet will appear again in Volume Three as Amelia and Nate discuss the pictures and the words and then settle on a title for the book.
Additional note: Volume Two was sent to Maxwell with Fiverr for editing, copyediting, and proofreading. (We wrote about him last week.) It should be returned in two weeks. But it may be sooner, if I’ve gotten most fixed myself. It is really good to have another set of eyes and a sharper mind to look everything over.
Additional note: We have updated our GraciePress website to include this latest project. Volume One will likely have a release date just before the summer starts for summer reading with Volume Two being released just before the Christmas season. Free download samples are available for both books. (Without any illustrations right now.)
We appreciate comments, good or not-so-good, those will help make this a great book! We are starting to work on Volume Three which will bring closure to the story of Nate and Gracie and their promises to each other which will be kept on the grandest stage in all of Paris, the stage of the Palais Garnier, the home of The Paris Opera Ballet. That’s where they are all going next!
Until Next Time
Thank you for reading!
John, Gracie, Bessie, Blanche, Pearl, Emily, and Amelia