“Are you kidding me? Are we really going here?” An involuntary laugh chokes out from sheer disbelief that she did this.
“We are really going here. You told me you're a bird-watcher. I hope you're also maybe a bird handler. The ones here need all the help you can give them. That’s why you need the gloves, by the way, to protect from their talons.”
“I am so down for this, Duchess.” My grin spreads, and I flex my fists in eager anticipation.
“Great. We have a two-hour window. Two hours should be enough to do some good for those birds. Then we’ll stop for food. Hence, the photo album. I want to see pictures of you as a kid.”
She pulls into a parking spot and turns off the ignition. Fortunately, her growing belly makes her a bit slower to move,so I have time to come around and open her door for her. I extend a hand and help her out of the car.
“So polite, cowboy. Let’s go see some birds.”
“Anything you want, honey. I’m down.” I drape an arm around her shoulders, and we walk through the low gate of the bird sanctuary, where a docent waits for us at a picnic table strewn with small boxes, ropes, and a whistle.
We spend the next two hours learning how the center cares for injured or sick birds, all of whom need to be hand-fed and nurtured. Tessa coos at each bird we see and jumps at the opportunity to hold a baby duck to keep it warm. She rubs its little feathered head with her thumb and holds it close.
When she catches me smiling at her, she tilts her head. “What?”
“You’re good at that.”
“Good at what, being nice to animals?”
“Among other things.”
In a large cage, a peregrine falcon stands regally with a tiny hood over its eyes. The docent explains that it has an injured wing, and until it can fly, it needs to be fed by hand. “But we’re not going to do that because peregrines eat mostly other birds and mice.” The docent lets the falcon perch on my gloved arm and removes the hood.
We take our time, talking quietly to the bird, who seems used to humans stroking its feathers and feeding it. Sitting patiently, the bird waits for me to get comfortable before it begins stretching its wings and flapping the non-injured one.
“So you’ve been here before?” I keep my voice quiet so I don’t spook the falcon, who seems content to sit on my arm in the fresh air and sunshine, which is important as its wing heals and the bird tests its readiness for flight.
“I started coming up here after I went on a field trip with my nephew and realized how much work it is to keep these birdshealthy, and how much fun it is to watch them start to thrive and grow. I've been volunteering once a month ever since.”
“That’s awesome. You never cease to surprise me.”
“Good. Hate to think I’m becoming boring.”
“Farthest thing from it. I still can’t believe you planned this.” If I thought the outing was spectacular, it’s nothing compared to her smile. I drop a kiss on her forehead, happy that we have this time together. I have no idea what it will be like once we’re shuttling a baby back and forth, so I intend to enjoy the time I have with Tessa now.
Once the falcon has sufficiently stretched its wings, the docent guides us to another area in the middle of a grassy field. “Are you ready for the big finish?”
“What’s the big finish?” I ask as Tessa and I follow the docent.
Tessa mimes locking her lips and tossing away the key, so I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her to me, my hand firm on her hip. “You know I have ways of getting information from you,” I tease, bouncing my eyebrows.
“None of those are gonna work here, cowboy. Just be patient.”
The docent stops in front of a large box and explains that it contains a barn owl that was trapped in a porta-potty and almost died. “This little guy has spent a month with us, and now it’s time for him to go back to the wild.” She slides a large leather glove onto my hand and coaxes the bird from the box.
I hold the owl, which stretches its wings and gives them a test flutter. They’re wide, mottled brown, and strong. “Seems ready for flight,” I say, holding my arm firm under the bird’s weight. It works hard, flapping again and taking a tiny test jump into the air before landing back on my arm.
The docent gives a few commands and shows me how to release the bird. The next time it starts flapping its wings, I giveit a nudge, and it takes flight, straight into the sky, no hesitation. Its wings pump hard, lifting its body into the air so gracefully, and a few moments later, the owl is gone.
“That was incredible.” I blink back the tiny dots of moisture at the corners of my eyes.
Tessa doesn’t say a word. She shakes her head in wonderment at what we just experienced.
It’s different from any kind of date I’ve ever had. No need to pepper each other with get-to-know-you questions. We just hang out, bond over birds, and get to know each other on a deeper level. We take the time to be present, something that seems to be a struggle for each of us for different reasons.
Back in the car, I’m even more aware of the proximity of her, a magnet drawing me in, daring me to find any excuse to touch her. Get even closer. I settle for tracing the line of her arm from hand to elbow and back again. She shudders as her skin erupts in goose bumps, and I rein myself in, putting my hand back into my lap.
