Coruja's Adventure

A cool December morning opened, and I tossed raw peanuts and seed to feed the local crows and blue jays. They often heard me opening the crinkly bags before I came outside to feed them. My 5-year-old tagged along, wanting to see the birds gather before her. Delighted in any kind of animal, Coruja Pássaro enjoyed the birds flapping in the high branches, waiting for their treat.

“Are they all here today?” she asked her mother.

Counting the crows among the trees, I replied, “Yes, all seven are here.”

“What about the others?”

Looking around the yard that bordered a large field, I said, “I can hear the blue jays, but they haven’t shown up yet. I think I see the woodpecker up there in that pine tree. The tiny finches like to come out for lunch.”

“I think they’re nice to visit us,” Coruja replied. “I think they like me.”

“Of course, they do,” I told her. “Your spirit animal is a bird, the way you fly around the house, and make a nest of blankets in the living room.” The bag of peanuts was now open. “These are same kind of birds that your grandma used to feed. The big cranes stayed near her house when she was living, hoping for leftovers. But we’re not allowed to feed them.”

Coruja looked perplexed. “Why not?”

“Because they can become very mean when they’re near people. And with their long legs they can get tangled up in garbage like the plastic around cans and bottles.” I finished tossing the seeds. “Plus they eat frogs and lizards, sometimes grain if they can find it. I’ve never seen a crane out here before.”

Coruja and I turned and walked back to the house when she asked, “There’s so much to remember. What about the apple bird?”

“What do you mean by ‘apple bird’”?

“She has a face like an apple.”

“Oh, now you’re being silly,” I told her. “There are no apple birds out here.”

She stamped her feet and said, “Mommy, I saw the apple bird. She stays high up in the trees.”

I looked at my kindergartner and admired her appreciation of animals. Her father had left before she was born, and I never told her the story. She didn’t need to hear the facts just yet. Instead, I spent the last three years getting her ready for school, and the first half of her first year was exciting as it was impressive. Her teacher told me how inquisitive Coruja was, and that she was going to thrive in school. She enjoyed learning about the world around her, nature drawing her outside.

Winter break was about to begin, and we had planned a nature hike in the field next door. I checked with the owner, Jim Celeiro, and he was fine with the idea. He owned about 40 acres of land once owned by a cattle rancher. When cattle ranching in the area died down, the property became affordable, and Jim decided to purchase.

Jim texted me and asked when we were coming over. I texted back, “Sometime over the weekend.” It was Friday, and school had just finished up. I wanted Coruja to have some time to unwind and help me around the house. Although she was only five, she could assist in some of the daily chores.

Jim called me later that day. “Sábia, what time do you think you’ll come over. I have a treat for you two.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Jim,” I told him. “We’re just happy to be on vacation.” I sensed he was getting sweet on me, waving to me each time I passed his house, leaving little presents for Coruja.

“Nonsense. It’s my pleasure.” Jim was a widower with nothing but time on his hands. The settlement from his wife’s accident allowed him to live comfortably on his estate. “I enjoy your company.”

A little awkwardly, I said, “And yours, too.” I immediately regretted it. I didn’t want to lead him on. “It’s nice having some pleasant company around,” I added. “We’ll be over on Sunday around 10 am.” I hoped he didn’t hear my face turning red.

“10 am,” Jim repeated. “Meet me on the back porch.”

I looked at Coruja who watched me in earnest. Did I just make a date? No, I thought, just a field trip at home. Coruja loved the outdoors. We could start a journal of the animals she spotted. “Was that Mr. Celery?”

“His name is Mr. Celeiro, not celery,” I laughed. “Why?”

“I don’t know. He looks like a nice man.”

A nice man, indeed, I agreed.

The following day Coruja and I completed laundry, dishes, and cleaning the floor. I made shrimp for dinner, and she asked me, “Do we have any sponge cake for dessert?”

“I think so. I bought some fresh strawberries the other day. We can put that on the cake.” We finished dinner and cleaned up. Evening was our special time together; at dusk, different birds came out, flying by and finding a place to settle. In the Adirondack chairs, we sat around the fire pit and watched.

“Oooh – there goes a cardinal,” Coruja said. “I think it was a boy. It was bright red.”

“Yes, you’re right. I bought this journal so we can write down what birds and animals we find. I’ll put the date and time, and the place. And the animal.” I opened the journal and jotted down the information. “This way you can keep track of what animals are in the area.”

“Maybe tonight you can see the apple bird,” Coruja said. “She likes to fly at night.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because sometimes she sits on my windowsill.”

A little concerned, I asked, “What do you mean? When did this happen?”

She replied, “I’ve seen her three times. She just sits there and looks in. I think one time she brought me a mouse.”

“Why haven’t you told me this before?” Concerned with Coruja becoming too curious and getting attacked by a bird, I reminded her, “Please let me know if it happens again.”

“Ok, Mommy.” Coruja looked up at the branches of the orange tree. “There’s a wren.”

“Yes, you’re right.” I wrote it down. “Mr. Celeiro will be impressed with your knowledge of birds.”

“He likes birds? And we get to see him?”

“Yes, tomorrow I promised we’d meet him in the morning.”

Together they finished the evening picking out Coruja’s clothes for the morning. Jeans, a striped shirt, sneakers, pink jacket. My little girl and future Audubon member. I set the journal down with her clothes so she’d remember to bring it. From my closet I set aside a green sweater and jeans - a perfect date ensemble, I smiled.

When the morning sun peeked through the window, I got up and made breakfast. Some toast and cheese would hold us through the day; I brewed some coffee for me and poured orange juice for Coruja. As I called her for breakfast, she was already on her way to the kitchen table, fully dressed, excited, with the journal in hand. “Ready!”

“I’m impressed. You don’t like getting up this early,” I mused.

“Today’s our field trip!” she enthused. “I’m going to see so many things.”

“Finish breakfast first.” We ate breakfast, I got dressed, and together we headed over to the neighbor’s house. “Don’t go off on your own. I don’t want you to get lost. It can be dangerous.”

“Ok, Mommy. I won’t.”

On the back porch, Jim sat waiting for us. He had a book in his hand and was thumbing through the pages. He waved when he saw Coruja and me coming. “Morning, Adventurers!” he shouted. “It’s turning out to be a great day.”

I walked up the stairs with Coruja, and she showed him her journal. “Mom got me this journal. I’m writing down all the animals we find.”

Jim looked down at her, then kneeled. “Well, then, I have the perfect gift for you.” He handed her the book he had, a field guide to birds. “This should help you name the flying ones.”

Coruja’s eyes opened wide. “Thank you, Mr. Celeiro,” she replied, making sure she pronounced it correctly. “This will help me a lot.”

“That was very kind of you,” I glanced at Jim. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to,” he said as he stood up, brushing sand off his pants. “I know you two enjoy watching the birds. There are so many birds to discover in the field. Let’s get started.”

Down the stairs, a trail started that brought them to the edge of the woods. There was a stream flowing over rocks and downed branches, and scrub oak trees swaying in the soft breeze. Many inviting trails diverged, and we traversed one together, the three of us, toward a large structure in the distance. It was old and dilapidated, but unmistakably red. “I didn’t know there was a barn here. How old is this?” I asked.

“According to the deed, it’s over 100 years old. I don’t use it, but I like having some history on the property.”

“That’s incredible.” I peered inside. “Is there anything in there?”

Jim replied, “Some old farm equipment, some bridles. That’s about it.” He turned to ask Coruja if she’d like to investigate.

She wasn’t there.

“Coruja?” I looked around. “Coruja!” Calling her name, I started running toward the other side of the barn, a better vantage point on the property. “Coruja!”

Jim followed and started off in a different direction. “I’m going to retrace our steps. Maybe she went back home.”

Frantic, I started to search the area near the stream. On a flat rock was the bird book. I called her name but heard no reply. I kept moving down the path near the stream, my hands up to dodge the low branches and spider webs, hoping to find her. I heard Jim’s steps through the dry bushes near the stream; his blue jacket visible as he approached me and said breathlessly, “I didn’t see her anywhere near the house. I checked the barn again. She could be on any of these trails. It’s 40 acres.”

I willed myself not to panic. “She’s here somewhere. I’ll head west; you head east. We’ll meet back at the barn. Keep your cell phone with you.”

I ventured westward toward the tail end of the stream, looking for signs of Coruja. The bare trees were filled with chirping birds, and rodents skittered along the cold water. Wilderness like this was irresistible to Coruja. Down the path I ran, looking and calling for my daughter. My hummingbird heart was beating fast, hoping Coruja was not hurt. Didn’t I remind her this morning not to wander off?

After an hour, I texted Jim that I was heading back to the barn. The giant barn was a perfect meeting place, easy enough for Coruja to locate. Why didn’t I tell her that if she got lost to look for the barn? When I got there, Jim appeared from the opposite direction. He looked at me, lines of worry across his face. “Did you find her?”

“No,” I replied. “No sign of her-“ I heard sound coming from within the barn. I dashed to the side where the door was ajar and walked inside. Coruja was sitting on an old barrel, writing in her notebook. “Coruja!” I yelled as I ran to her. “Where have you been? Are you ok? Why did you wander off?” I hugged her.

Confused, she said, “I saw a woodpecker, and followed the path he was on.” Jim came inside the barn, relieved to see Coruja. “Then I saw a black snake, and I dropped my book.”

“I have it,” I told her. “Then what happened?”

“I ran away, far from the snake. I didn’t know where I was. Then I saw the apple bird and followed it.”

Jim stepped in, “Apple bird?”

“Yes,” she explained. “I followed the apple bird here.”

I asked her. “What bird?” She pointed up into the rafters. And there we saw it. A barn owl with the apple-shaped face had landed up in the hayloft to set up a nest. It stared at us, and turned its head sideways, examining the strangers in her house. “That’s the apple bird?”

“Yes, Mommy. I told you. Her face is an apple.”

Jim took the book from me and opened it to a page and gave it to Coruja. "How unusual. These owls are usually more active at night. It says, however, they'll come out during the day if they need to. Here. You can add this to your journal. Here’s more of her story.”

Coruja busily wrote the info down into her journal. Jim walked to my side and took my hand. “I’m glad she found her way home.” He felt that I was shaking, and then he hugged me. “It’s ok. She found her way home, Sábia. She’s safe.”

I cried on his shoulder. “This was the most frightening hour of my life.”

Jim looked up at the barn owl, thankful for its very existence. “This time she had a spirit guiding her.” He held onto me until I calmed down, and Coruja finished her writing, copying from the book.

“I’m done. Here, I drew a picture of the apple bird.” In her journal was her drawing, the barn owl with the heart-shaped face. “This was a fun field trip.” Seeing me upset, she looked down and added, “I promise I won’t run off again.” And with that, Coruja took my hand and regarded Jim. “Thank you, Mr. Celeiro. I hope to find more birds here.”

As we left the barn, Jim still held my hand. “I think you will,” he told Coruja. “The birds seem to like you.”