Chapter 13

April 2009

The next morning, Zack was up with the sun. Not that he had any choice in the matter. For one thing, the sunlight was creeping through the skylight, down through the mesh ceiling of his tent and right into his eyes. The other was the fact that he'd sought his evening's repose in the midst an unnatural concentration of Mother Nature's most perfect, most effective and most unyielding alarm clock and herald of the new day -- the parrot.

Grant knew that the screams of a hyacinth macaw could be heard five miles away in their native Brazilian rain forests. Zack soon learned the same. He was no more than 25 feet away when Big Max decided to cut loose his enthusiastic, rousing morning stem-winder. The cockatoos started in as well, screaming as if their legs were being amputated by a chain saw. Once the Amazons and blue-and-gold macaws joined in, there was no point in even pretending to close his eyes and try to go back to sleep. They would be carrying on like that for the next 15 minutes or so. Zack had to take a leak anyway.

He slipped on his high-traction Merrell sport sandals, unzipped the door and crawled out. First checking the outer surface of the tent for bird poop -- there was none, motivating him to quickly come back and dismantle the structure before it became an issue -- he padded away from his campsite to use the toilet and scrounge up some breakfast.

His snappy hop over the little stream caught the attention of every bird in the facility, causing a momentary pause in the screaming. As he pushed his way through the vinyl strips in the doorway, he remembered the bird he'd spooked in the boxes in the storage alcove. Feeling guilty about abandoning it last night, he now worried that the poor thing could be injured or at least terribly stressed.

"Hey birdie ... are you still in there?" He started rapping the boxes with his knuckle. The resulting response caused him to jump back more than six feet.

One by one, three African Greys rocketed out from the boxes, smashing through the vinyl strips and retreating to the heights of the aviary. Zack stepped tentatively back into the dark alcove, cautiously moving boxes around until he found one with a hole chewed into the side. Before opening it he tapped, gently this time, on the top.

"Is anyone home in there?" He tapped again. "Hello?" There was a rustling inside the box; Zack stepped clear of the opening. But instead of another panicked parrot tearing through the air like a gray-feathered guided missile, his drumming triggered the frantic, high-pitched screeching of newly hatched chicks begging for food.

"Ohhh man." He squeezed himself in between some boxes to open the top of the occupied one and took a peak inside. The light was poor, and he'd left his flashlight in the tent. But he could see them, four of them, little quivering fluff-balls, mouths wide open, heads bobbing, begging for their morning feeding. Before he could ease the box cover back down, a second chorus of compelling, collective crying from another clutch of hungry chicks broke out in a box stacked further back, a bit above his head.

"Oh shit," he muttered. He knew enough that he had to clear out of the way to let the parents get back and feed their chicks. So he backed out, leaving the boxes as he found them, and trotted down the corridor to first hit the bathroom and then find his uncle.

"Well, I guess that answers the question of where the birds were sneaking off to," Grant said after taking a peak into the closer of the two boxes.

"There's more up there," Zack pointed to the other box.

"Do me a favor and drag that stool over here." Grant motioned to a small, plastic step stool sitting in the corner of the alcove. "I don't want to move them around any more than I have to." Zack retrieved the stool and positioned it by his uncle's feet. Grant stepped up and inspected the contents of the second box.

"Oh yeah. We've got four in the first box, four in the second," Grant said as he eased the top of the box down. He looked around before he stepped off the stool.

"Uh-oh," he said. He pointed to a third box, on yet another stack, behind and adjacent to the second. "We've got a hole chewed in the side of that one, too." He stepped down and slid the stool over about 18 inches before climbing back on.

"Four eggs," he reported. "They'll probably hatch within a couple of days." He dismounted and stood with his hands on his hips. "Just what we need, another dozen parrots." He hadn't mentioned to Mandy or her brother Dr. Ross's stipulation about never breeding the Greys. "I need to take a closer look at those chicks," he said, half to himself.

"What's going on?" Mandy came jogging down the hallway. She'd heard her brother yelling something about chicks from her bedroom. "Do we have babies?" She'd helped her uncle with hand-feeding chicks when she was younger.

"Eight," her brother reported. "And four more eggs!"

"Whose babies?" she asked.

"The Greys," Grant said. "Three hens, three clutches. Better organized than most people I know." He shook his head. "These damn birds are too smart for their own good." While appreciating the effort they went through to locate and secure acceptable nesting sites without getting caught, he silently acknowledged that he should have caught them.

"Mandy, come over here," he stepped back from the stack and knocked the stool away with his foot. "Lift up that box real slowly, real easy, and lower it so I can get inside. I need to take a good look at these guys..."

Mandy did as requested, easing the box down to her waist level so Grant could fold back the flaps and study the contents. The chicks, still blind and unsure of this new, unfamiliar stimulus, did all they knew to do; they started begging for food.

"They look big for newborns, don't they?" Mandy commented. "They can't be more than a day or two old."

"Cool," Zack said. "Hey, what's that on the tip of his wings? It looks like a little claw. Look! They all have them!"

Grant studied the little quivering hatchlings, their gaping mouths waiting for the food they thought was coming. Christ almighty! he thought. What the hell is that? He reached in and carefully plucked one from the makeshift nest, cupping it delicately in his hand. The chick immediately started squirming, trying to escape. He placed his other hand on top and lifted the terrified creature from the box. Keeping the chick safely enclosed in his hands, he stepped into the aviary so he could inspect it in the better light.

"You're being watched," Zack pointed out. Three Greys were perched on a branch close to the doorway, whistling warnings and calling to their chicks.

"Okay, okay," Grant said. "We'll make this quick." He opened his hand and looked hard at the chick. "Beak is a funny shape ... too straight for a Grey. Almost looks like a hawk or eagle. And those are little claws all right ... never seen anything like those before." The little bird was struggling violently now. "Let's get him back before he hurts himself."

Grant gently returned the chick back to box, which Mandy then put back on the pile.

"Do you think they're hawks?" Zack asked.

"Don't be stupid," Mandy said.

"Don't start!" Grant interrupted. He turned to his niece. "Do you know where I keep my reference books back there in the prep room?"

"Yep."

"Go grab the book on African Greys. We have some homework to do." She took off down the dim hallway.

He then turned to Zack. "We need to spruce up these nests a bit. In the garage I have some bags of pine shavings and there should be some sisal-fiber bedding out there too. Bring me a couple of bags, okay?"

"Got it!" Zack sped away at a full run.

Grant went back to the aviary and looked at the three Greys, still barking, agitated, on the nearby perch.

"You couldn't leave well-enough alone, could you?"

When Zack returned, dragging enough nesting material to stock an ostrich farm, Grant placed a few handfuls of the material in each of the three boxes, leaving nice piles that the hens could redistribute as they saw fit. Mandy also returned, reading the reference book as she walked.

"Those chicks don't really look anything like these pictures," she reported, telling her uncle what he already knew.

"Let's go upstairs and take a look at this, and get out of the way of the parents." The three of them walked up the stairs to the observation deck.

"Are you going to leave them there?" Zack asked.

"For now," Grant answered. "They look healthy enough." He settled into his lounge chair. "Now let's see what we have here." He took the book from Mandy, which was already opened to the breeding section.

Mandy and Zack were hanging over the side of the railing, watching the Grey hens. "There they go!" Zack said.

"Shut up!" Mandy nudged him with her shoulder. "You'll scare them." He poked her back with an elbow.

Grant was quietly flipping through the pages. "The eggs had to have been laid about a month ago. It says two to five eggs are normal. The chicks leave the nest in two to three months."

"You're not going to leave them down there for three months, are you?" Mandy asked.

Grant closed the book and placed it on the table next to his chair. "No, probably not," he answered, lost in thought. He stood up and joined them at the railing. "Well, at least you guys know what you're going to be doing this summer."