Birdy

more days listening to Alfonso’s songs, all of them sing at one time or another. I can’t believe it’s possible but it looks as if the whole first nest is male.
    At school, I carry in my mind the songs and notes Alfonso sings. There’s no way I can imitate them with my big throat and soft mouth, but I have them memorized. It’s like knowing music you’ve heard played with instruments. You carry more than the melody, but also the sounds of the instruments and their blends too. It’s the way Alfonso’s music is in my head.
    I start training the baby birds not to be afraid of me. I go into the aviary with treat food or dandelion greens or apple, things theylike. I put these on my knee or on the toe of my shoe and sit down to wait. Birdie comes down, usually, to say hello and eat. The little ones are shy at first but gradually come over and start to eat cautiously. I get the dark one and the spotted one to sit on my finger after a week. Even Alfonso eats off my shoe and once off my knee. He sure is a suspicious bird.
    Birdie doesn’t like me to pick her up anymore. She gets nervous and jumps away when I put my hand over her. It probably has to do with nesting. Her responsibility as a mother bird is too much for her to take those kinds of chances.
    The Alfonso meanness seems directly tied to the dark color. The dark baby is already pushing his nest mates around. The only one who gives him any fight is the spotted one. The little yellow babies just good-naturedly move away or wait their turn.
    One time, the dark one forgets himself and tries to push Alfonso off the perch. Alfonso flies away the first time. The little dark one follows him. When Alfonso realizes what’s going on, he rears up and gives that baby one sharp rap on the skull. The poor thing plummets to the floor of the aviary and walks around in circles, stunned. Alfonso goes about his business, without following up, and that’s the end of it.
    The new babies are born all in one morning. There’re four of them. They all look dark, no pure yellow ones. Birdie and Alfonso start their routine. They seem to have made a rule that the babies of the first nest aren’t allowed in the breeding cage. Alfonso enforces this. It doesn’t take many bops on the head or Alfonso growls for the young ones to get the idea.
    I’ve taken out the old nest holder and removed the nest. I’ve also cleaned up that corner of the cage where it was caked with crap. The new babies grow fast. In almost no time they’re teetering on the edge of the nest. I’ve given up trying to guess sex. There are two completely dark like Alfonso and two with light breasts and dark wings. One of these has a dark head, too. The other has a spot over the left eye. They’re almost three weeks old when it happens.
    One of the spotted ones, the one with the dark head, has already fallen out of the nest several times. I’ve put it back every night beforeI turn off the light. One morning, I go in and find this one has fallen out during the night. I pick it up and it’s stiff, legs straight out, and ice cold. I hold it in my hands hoping the warmth might revive it, but it doesn’t move. I put it in warm water. I hold it in the water with the head out, but there’s nothing to do. The poor thing froze in the night; it’s dead. I’m sorry for Birdie and Alfonso. I watch but they keep on feeding the other birds and don’t seem to notice one is missing. I don’t know what I expect them to do. Birds can’t cry. I guess the only animals that can cry, laugh, and lie are people. We’re probably the only ones who have some idea about being dead, too. Most animals try to keep from being dead but I don’t think they make much of it.
    There’s something I want to know about birds that I haven’t been able to find anywhere; the density, how much it weighs in relation to its volume. I can figure it out with this dead young one. I didn’t want to try it with a live bird.
    First I fill a glass of water to the very top, put the glass in a saucer and put the dead bird into the glass. I push the bird until all of it is under. The excess water flows up over the side and is caught by the saucer. I pour that water into a jar to take to school to measure it accurately. I wrap the bird in a piece of cloth and put both the jar and the bird in my lunch bag.
    My homeroom is in the science lab and there’s all the equipment I need to measure and weigh. I weigh the bird and divide the weight by the volume of