No one sees the feeders at first.
They gather where something has just ended: a breakup outside a subway, a man staring too long at a message that begins with we regret to inform you. The air bends, and something thin slips into the space where
I glanced between the “phoenix” chick perched on the countertop and the shopkeeper attempting to sell me said chick. I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure this is a phoenix?”
He smiled broadly, his teeth blindingly white. “Of course.”
“Then why is he blue?”
The shopkeeper’s
“All this trouble just so you can cuddle some alien vultures.” My sister landed our gyro-flyer near one of my video recorders, which was showing a lone adorb. Usually they were in herds of a dozen or so. “A year with
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“I will sing the pain away,
Hold your trembles, night or day.
You’re more than broken wings and cries,
You’re stardust born to touch the skies.”
Harmony sang, her blue eyes glistening, “You can do it, Birdie!”
Birdie had fallen from his nest a week ago and was finally strong enough to fly
Joe sat near the edge of the roof, bathed in the cream-colored glow of Jupiter’s broad disc. “Why is it always some damn birds?” They loved building nests in the Slip Time Cooler housings, and he could just see a feather poking out. These dumb old models. Why didn’t they put grates over
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If this last bird doesn’t reach my father, I don’t have any hope left.
I choke on a sob, cradling the raven. “Take my message to him. Please.”
Ever since that slip down the mountainside left me with a badly sprained leg, I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would…
I knew two things about Boston. Running was its heartbeat and ducks were always welcome. Momma had told me of that magical place when I was a duckling. As a grown hen, I shared the tale with my two daughters, Roxi and Sara, and our decision to move was unanimous.
Ten days after departing Rochester, we were gliding over Boston Public Garden.
I perched in the trees with my flock, waiting for the land walkers to leave. The tourists had nicknamed our home Murder Island ever since we chose to inhabit it. My name is Maximillian, but my crow brothers called me Boss.
Twilight painted the sky orange and pink as the last two…
“Sorcha, wait!” Mr. Devereaux calls. The pompous old duck is always telling me to wait. “Feudal Japan isn’t safe for foreigners. Europeans could be killed on sight.”
“Did anyone warn my brother of that?” I yell over my shoulder.
I plunge through the dripping trees to the road beyond.
In honor of my first Crossing the Line—or equator, as landlubbers call it—I bought a parrot. Scarlet she was, with a tuft of white atop her head, which I smoothed down, saying, “I’ll call you Poll Whitecap,” thinking of the foam-topped waves.
“Can’t believe you paid so much for…
The gulls were the worst part. Daedalus had expected that, though not the reason why.
Often enough had he and his son, Icarus, seen those feathered thieves shrieking and snatching fish, fruit, or whatever else they could gobble along the Cretan shoreline. They’d had plenty of opportunity for such observations. Crete’s ruler
“You said we were going to the beach.”
We both stared at the frozen wasteland. A gust of frigid wind blew into the time machine, swirling around us and stealing our breath away.
“Um.” With one last glance at the desert of ice and snow, I slammed the door shut and frowned…
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