The Ingathering: A Tale of Two Species

By Stephanie Langson

What bad did I do?

The silence surrounding the sudden loss of everyone and everything torments Alex with this question, as if he were powerful enough to cause the winds of misfortune to blow his world away.

Robert has suffered losses this year, too: his divorce and the death of his father and his parrot, Benjie. The house i

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephanie Canter
• Release date: Nov 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781633373037

Book preview

FIRST MEETING

WHAT BAD DID I DO? Alex wondered. Why did they leave me here? I want to wake up back at the ranch. Mom making scrambled eggs and Dad reading the paper while I perch on his chair and listen to his breathing, climb up his arm, put my head on his chest, and listen to his heart beating. I would feel my heart beating, too; two hearts beating together. Yes, I tore the edges of the paper and poked my beak through the center, but it was all in fun. I never ate the paper.

Don’t eat the newspaper! Joe, get that paper out of his mouth!

I’m not going to lose a finger!

They must be on vacation, Alex thought, like the time they went to Never Again and left Rosa and me at the Bird Boarders.

He side-stepped on the center perch of his cage toward the two windows overlooking the steps and lawn descending from the front entrance of the Roseville Avian Rescue and Rehabilitation Sanctuary. What bad did I do? he asked as if the sky would answer.

The blue and gold macaw several feet away, who was also ready for adoption and had been half-dozing in his cage, heard Alex and began to shriek. The two cockatiels in their cages near the door of the transfer room were roused and joined in. The cacophony echoed off the bare white walls and the mottled grey tile floor beating a tattoo in Alex’s brain. What bad did I do? What bad did I do? Tears sprang to his eyes, grief closed his throat, and fear wildly beat his heart. He hung his head and nestled his chin into his chest, a small feathery ball of remorse. His parents, Rosa, the dog, and the ranch were gone.

Count the days you have been here.

Startled, Alex looked above him. He saw a luminous bird on the top perch of his cage. Her ultraviolet reflectance filled his vision with grades of color, brightness, and design unknown to the human eye. The longer he looked, the more diffused her form became until her radiance filled the transfer room. The dominant color of blue-purple, pulsating at her center, awed the harping birds quiet. And in the quiet, all form was lost to the light. Then, like a wave drawing back into the ocean revealing the grains of wet sand, the light was drawn back into the bird on the top perch of Alex’s cage, revealing the forms as they had been. Ima Knowalot. You, Alex, can call me Ima.

You know my name.

Yes.

You came to see me?

Yes.

Why?

I go when I’m called and where I’m needed.

I didn’t call you.

Your fear and anguish called me.

Alex looked around the room as if he could see what he had not heard.

Knowalots hear what others don’t. We are Trustees of the Bird Kingdom, guides from the Spiritual Plane. Everyone traverses an evolutionary spiral called The Ascension, and I am here to help you fly.

Where is here?

"A way station for parrots.

I feel away. Away from home. Tears slid down his emerald green feathered face and yellow and peach beak.

Count the days you have been here.

Why? he asked looking up.

Counting is calming. It takes us back to the beginning, to the One where peace resides. From the One, all numbers flow. They are an ancient, universal language; their formulations reveal the secrets of life. Numbers go on where words leave off.

I don’t count. If I had counted, they would never have left me here.

One, Ima said.

I wonder when I’m going home.

Two.

Mom and Dad.

Three.

Three? he asked.

Four.

Forever. What did I do wrong?

Your presence here is not connected to what you did, Ima said and descended to the center perch.

Alex closed his eyes. The light is too bright.

Sorry, my mistake. I forgot to further modulate the light.

Knowalots make mistakes?

Well, we’re not Knowitalls.

Alex opened his eyes. Thank you. I would like to see a Knowitall.

It’s a mythical bird.

I did scream a lot when Rosa flew away. That’s when Stupid Jim cut my flight feathers.

He cut too close to the blood lines. You could have bled to death.

Dad got his shotgun and told Stupid Jim to leave the ranch, pronto!

Alex raised his wings, ruffled his feathers, and settled back down. I didn’t want to leave. I was waiting for Rosa to come home. We had talked a lot. She taught me many words. Outside, in the small aviary, I would call her name and look for her in the sky, the trees, and on the roofs. Sometimes, when I lifted my head from the food bowl, I would see her flying home, but it was not her. Even when Rosa was gone, she was with me. But, I worried. As the days grew shorter, darker, and colder, I worried . . . I knew when they left me here that Rosa would never find me. Tears flowed. She will never find me now.

Ima brushed away his tears with the tips of her wing and drew him close.

I never bit Rosa, Alex said. Well, maybe, sometimes when she ate my food. Is that why she flew away?

No. Birds are born to fly, and fly they will.

She was sad, because she didn’t want to be confined. She wanted to fly free.

The sky is as wonderful as it is dangerous for an inexperienced African Grey, Ima said. Alex peeked out from under Ima’s wing and looked into her midnight-blue eyes. Why did they leave me here? It must be something I did. What was it? I want to know. Tell me; I won’t do it again. I’m sorry. I want my mom and dad!

Ima pressed him closer. He withdrew his head and closed his eyes. Rest in me; I am the comfort you seek. Alex laid his cheek against her silky feathers and felt a slow and steady pulse. The sound was barely audible as if it were coming from a great distance. The turmoil began to slip away. When his breathing calmed, Ima lifted her wing, looked at Alex, and said, You did not cause this. Nothing you did caused this. Your mom and dad lost the ranch and moved to an apartment—no pets allowed. That’s one of the reasons they brought you here.

I’m not a dog. Did they take the dog?

No.

I’m not a pet. I’m their son. That’s why they named me Alex. It was their son’s name. They lost their son, too . . . Are they careless?

No.

Sons shouldn’t be left at tearless places of no crying. When will they take me home?

Someone else will take you home, someone who has been waiting for a son just like you, Alex. She motioned toward the door. Look!

Alex looked down the long aisle of cages toward the open door. It’s the food lady with the curly hair. She’s like a walking nest.

Sarah was smiling broadly as she walked, knowing Alex would no longer be alone, and when she was in speaking distance, said, Alex, Robert is here to meet you. She knelt before his cage and opened the door. Come, he will be a good friend.

Ima shooed him toward the end of the perch. Go, Alex, she said.

And with Ima’s goings and Sarah’s comings, Alex cautiously climbed down the side of the cage to the platform below and hopped onto the cold tile floor.

He stood staring at a tall slender man with kindly gray-blue eyes. His balding pate reminded Alex of his dad. Robert dropped to his knees inside the doorway, held out his arms, and called him by name. Alex, on tiny feet and with tattered wings, slowly walked the full distance to stand before him. Robert offered his hand, and Alex stepped up.

Robert lightly stroked his head and neck. He looked at Sarah. How has he been?

He’s making progress, but it’s slow. Some parrots have difficulty adjusting to a sanctuary. He’s used to living on a ranch with a family, and we feel he would make faster progress if we placed him now.

How long has he been here?

Three weeks. Our vet examined him and took his blood for testing, but he already had a file on him. Alex’s owners were regular clients, so once his health was reaffirmed, we were able to bypass our usual forty-five-day quarantine and observation period. We knew you wanted a grand eclectus, so I called.

Lucky for me, Robert said. When I inquired in October, I never expected to have a parrot by January.

We shot you to the top of our list because of your aviary. Alex’s owners stressed the importance of placing him in an environment similar to the one he left. They didn’t want him confined to a small space. Alex loves to fly.

Robert stood and held Alex at eye level. Okay little buddy, we’re a team. He looked at Sarah. Does he talk?

When he chooses to.

I’ll be back tomorrow with his traveling cage.

Robert carried Alex back to his cage, gently placed him inside on the center perch, and followed Sarah to the front desk to make out the adoption papers. Neither saw nor heard Ima. They lacked the visual capability of parrots; the ultraviolet field was closed to them as was Ima’s range of sound.

That was a big step-up! Alex said.

Well, you’re stepping up into a new life, Ima said.

I don’t know him.

You’ll come to know him.

I feel sick, he said, and he began to pull at his breast feathers.

Ima tapped him on the top of his head. Stop it; you’ll make your condition worse. There is nothing to fear. Have some water. You’ll feel better.

Alex climbed down to the platform, and Ima met him there. He took a drink from the small bowl then began to eye the pea pods next to it. I think I’ll have some peas.

Good idea. I’ll teach you how to count the peas in the pods.

I’m going to eat all the peas.

I wouldn’t deprive you.

It’s okay? Alex asked.

Yes, it’s okay.

PREPARATIONS

AFTER THE ADOPTION PAPERS WERE COMPLETED AND SIGNED, and the fee of $500.00 was paid, Sarah made a copy of the transaction, wrote out the receipt, and added them to Alex’s file folder. Would you mind if I walked with you to your car? She handed him the folder. The cool January breeze is a welcome relief from the long hot Texas summers. It has been calling me, but I haven’t had a moment to answer.

I’m happy to be the reason for your recess. My 4Runner is parked on the east side of the building near the ficus hedge. If memory serves me, the farmers’ market is on the other side.

Indeed, it is.

Robert held the front door open for her, and they descended the steps to the wide walkway. He slowed his pace to match her easy stride. The wind played with her dark hair and painted her cheeks with a hint of pink. The rustling leaves of the trees whispered a welcome, for nature responds to those who love her. As they neared the parking lot, the murmur of voices drew their attention. They peered through the hedge to watch the shoppers select the oranges and grapefruits at the open stand.

You’re fortunate to have organic produce close at hand, Robert said.

It’s one of the perks of the job. I recommend it for the parrots if you can afford it.

They left the opening in the hedge and walked to Robert’s SUV. He opened the door and placed the folder on the passenger seat.

I like the cream-colored leather, Sarah said.

Thanks. He shut the door, leaned against the front fender, and crossed his legs. That’s all I gave Benjie.

All of what?

"Organic. I spent a lot of time with him—took him for rides in the car, bathed him two to three times a week, brought him out to the aviary to fly . . . I was