Where the Forest Meets the Stars(15)

“There are four more, and you can see them all. But afterward you have to go home.”
She wouldn’t agree. Most obstinate child in the universe. Jo drove on. Other than a flush in her cheeks, the girl had completely recovered from her cry by the time Jo parked at the next orange flag. “I hope the raccoon didn’t get the eggs,” Ursa said.
“It should be babies. They would have hatched within the last day.”
Ursa jumped out and read the text on the flag tied to a sycamore sapling. “It’s an indigo bunting nest that’s seven meters northeast and one meter off the ground.”
“Good. Now we’ll find northeast with my compass.” Jo showed her how to use the compass and sent her in the correct direction. As Ursa approached the nest, the parent birds began to call in alarm. “Do you hear those loud, abrupt chirps? That’s what indigo buntings do when you get too close to their nest.” The agitated male balanced on a milkweed plant, his sapphire feathers lit by a setting sun that had finally emerged from fleeing rain clouds. “The male is right there in front of you. Do you see him?”
“He’s blue!” Ursa said. “He’s all different colors of blue!”
Her excitement was intense and real. But if she was from that road or any other nearby road, she would have seen that bird before. Buntings were common on Southern Illinois roadsides.
“I see the nest!” Ursa said. “Can I look inside?”
“Go ahead.”
Ursa parted belly-high weeds and peered into the nest. “Oh my god!” she said. “Oh my god!”
“They hatched?”
“Yes! They’re really little and pink! They’re opening their beaks at me!”
“They’re hungry. Their parents had trouble finding insects for them in the rain today.” Jo looked at the four newly hatched buntings. “We have to leave them alone. Do you hear how upset the parents are?”
Ursa couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny birds. “This is a miracle! This is it, the first miracle!”
“Haven’t you ever seen baby birds in a nest?”
“How could I have? I’m from a planet that doesn’t have baby birds and nests.”
“Let’s go,” Jo said. “Their parents need to feed them while there’s still light.”
When they got to the car, Jo asked, “Was that really the first indigo bunting you’ve seen?”
“It was. It’s the prettiest bird I’ve seen on Earth so far.”
They checked the next nest, which had four eggs. After that was a white-eyed vireo nest. Vireos weren’t Jo’s target species, but she took data on any nest she found. The nest was still active with three vireo nestlings and one cowbird nestling, and on the way back to the car Jo told Ursa about brown-headed cowbirds and how they laid their eggs in the nests of other birds, called “hosts,” that raised them.
“Why don’t cowbirds want to take care of their own babies?” Ursa asked.
“By laying their eggs in the nests of other birds, they can make lots more babies because other birds do all the work. In nature, the winner is the one that produces the most young.”
“Are the vireos mad about raising the cowbird babies?”
“They don’t know they’re raising cowbirds. They get tricked into doing it. And often the host’s babies don’t get enough food because cowbird nestlings are bigger, grow faster, and cry louder for food. Sometimes the host species’ nestlings die.”
“Will the vireo babies die?”
“They looked okay. Their parents are doing a good job of keeping everyone fed.”
Ursa stalled getting in the car to look at the last nest. She stopped to look at flowers, asked Jo about a beetle, and pretended to be fascinated by a rock she found in the weeds. Ursa remained preoccupied with the rock in her hand while they drove to the last nest, passing Egg Man’s lane on the way. They left the car, but before Ursa had time to read the flagging tape, a white Suburban with a university plate drove around the bend. From behind the wheel, white-haired Dr. Shaw Daniels waved at Jo. He parked behind her car and ducked his lanky body out the door. “Working at this late hour?”
“It isn’t late,” Jo said. “It’s only six o’clock. I didn’t expect you until closer to eight.”
“The last session was canceled because of food poisoning.”
“You’re kidding?”
He shook his head. “It was something people ate at the reception the night before.”
Jo looked through the open driver’s side door at Tanner, seated in the back of the Suburban with Carly Aquino. The guilt in his returned gaze was obvious, as was his attempt to hide it behind a smarmy smile. What had Jo ever liked about him other than his pretty face? She looked away from him, at Leah Fisher in the front passenger seat. “Did any of you get sick?”
“We’re all okay,” Leah said.
“Fortunately, we didn’t stay at the reception for long,” Shaw said, “because we had dinner with John Townsend and two of his students.” He kept glancing at Ursa. “And who is this?” he asked.
“Ursa lives around here. I was showing her how I monitor nests.”
“Nice to meet you, Ursa,” he said. “I’m Shaw. What do you have there?”
“It’s a rock with pink crystals in it,” Ursa said.
“Cool,” Shaw said, his gaze falling to the flip-flops that dwarfed the girl’s feet.
“She was barefoot,” Jo said. “I loaned her those so she wouldn’t hurt her feet. Are you hungry?”