“Shh,” both kids now said.
“Mom, it’s a bird app.It takes all the different bird sounds and identifies the birds,” Austin whispered.
Mabel sighed, grabbed her phone, and hit the “off” button on the app.“Yes, but it doesn’t work if people are talking.It only picks up on bird calls.And human voices interrupt the bird calls.”
“Sorry,” Austin said sheepishly.“Can we turn it on again?”
“Will you be quiet?”she asked.
He nodded.
Then she glanced at me.“Willyoube quiet?”
I sat down next to my son and did the ol‘ zip-lock-and-throw-away-the-key to my mouth.Mabel just rolled her eyes and turned the app back on.
I’d never really stopped and just listened to the birds before.But it was like an orchestra in the trees.An overwhelming cacophony of twitterpated egg layers.Every now and then, I’d hear a crow or a gull, but the rest I couldn’t place.The app was going crazy, listing them all, highlighting which one was most prominent.I couldn’t see any birds, but they were in the trees, and having quite the party.
Gravel crunched under shoes behind us, and I craned my head around to find Lennox approaching, twin creases of frustration between his thick, dark brows.“Mabes, we should go.”
She placed her index finger over her mouth to shush him.
“Mabel Dawn Paul—”
Mabel paused the app with a weighted sigh.“Five more minutes.There are a lot of unique birds in these trees.A few I didn’t expect to find on the island.”
I met his gaze, and my lip twitched.
His sigh was even heavier than his daughter’s, but he nodded and sat down next to me, crossing his legs.Our knees bumped, and he didn’t pull away.
Mabel pressed play again, and we all sat there in total silence, listening to the canopy symphony and watching the app go wild.I glanced down at the app and saw that the current birdsong we heard belonged to a Swainson’s Thrush.Then a White-crowned Sparrow joined in, making it a duet.Soon, an American Robin entered the chat as well, and a crow kept trying to interrupt and say his two cents.
Maybe it was because I was always so busy, running around the property working, but I’d never taken the time to just sit and listen to the birds before.It was lovely and peaceful, and without even realizing it I closed my eyes so all I had to do was listen.
Five minutes turned into ten, then ten into fifteen.Nobody had said a thing.
It wasn’t until a loud crow came and perched right on a branch above us, determined to have its voice heard, and drowned out the rest of the birds, that Mabel finally paused the app.
“We need to go, kiddo,” Lennox said, easily unfolding his long limbs and standing up.He offered me his hand without hesitation, and I took it, secretly ogling his biceps that popped when he hauled me up.
Mabel stood up as well, and so did Austin.My kid wasted no time resuming his favorite activity, this time roping in his principal.They tossed the Hacky Sack back and forth as we accompanied Lennox and Mabel back to their truck.I hadn’t even been expecting to do that; it just sort of … happened.
“Thanks for showing me your bird app,” Austin said to Mabel.“That’s super cool.”
Mabel nodded.“You are welcome.Please let me know if you see a Northern flicker.The app says they were in the trees, but I didn’t see one.They are among my favorite birds.Scientific name isColaptes.”
Austin wrinkled his nose.“I don’t know what a flicker looks like.”
Mabel’s fingers flew across the screen of her phone for a moment, then she held it up to my son.“Like that.”
“Oh!”Austin said.“I see those guys all the time.That’s a kind of woodpecker, right?”
Mabel nodded.
“Whatisyour favorite bird?”he asked her.“Mine is the peregrine falcon because it’s the fastest bird in the world.Mom took us to a falconry place on the mainland last year—”
“I read about that place.”Mabel turned to her dad.“We need to go there, Dad.It’s only an hour outside of Seattle.”
Austin was nodding enthusiastically.“I’d totally go again.They let you wear this big, long leather glove, and the bird comes and lands on your arm.You can feed it too.”
