Ospreys in Danger Read online

  Ospreys in

  Danger

  Pamela McDowell

  illustrations by Kasia Charko

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  Text copyright © 2014 Pamela McDowell

  Illustrations copyright © 2014 Kasia Charko

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  McDowell, Pamela, author

  Ospreys in danger / Pamela McDowell ;

  illustrated by Kasia Charko.

  (Orca echoes)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0283-4 (pbk.).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0284-1 (pdf).

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0285-8 (epub)

  1. Osprey--Juvenile fiction. I. Charko, Kasia, 1949-, illustrator

  II. Title. III. Series: Orca echoes

  PS8625.D785O86 2014 jc813'.6 C2013-906851-1

  C2013-906852-X

  First published in the United States, 2014

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013955772

  Summary: Cricket attempts to reunite baby ospreys with their parents after an electrical pole catches fire and destroys their nest.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia

  through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Kasia Charko. Author photo by Mirror Image Photography

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 5626, STN. B PO BOX 468

  Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA

  V8R 6S4 98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  17 16 15 14 • 4 3 2 1

  For Don, who introduced me to the wind, bears,

  and red rocks of Waterton many moons ago.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  “I love the smell of Mondays.” Cricket McKay tilted her nose up and closed her eyes. Her real name was Jenna, but everybody called her Cricket. It started back when she was five and collected hundreds of crickets on her grandpa’s farm, hoping to start a cricket zoo. She eventually released the crickets, but the nickname stuck.

  “You’re crazy, Cricket. Mondays don’t smell,” said her best friend, Shilo.

  Cricket opened her eyes. “I’m crazy?” She watched Shilo tiptoe along the top of the stone fence beside the sidewalk. The fence wasn’t high, but it guarded the RCMP headquarters in the tiny village of Waterton. “You’d better get off of there before Constable Peticlaire sees you. And by the way, Mondays do smell…of popcorn!”

  Shilo sniffed the air. “Mmm, you’re right. Sabina always makes extra popcorn on Mondays.”

  Every Monday, a new movie started at the theater in the old Waterton Opera House. Since March, when both girls had turned nine, they had been allowed to walk to the theater together on Monday evenings.

  A horn beeped. Shilo yelped and jumped off the fence. The girls turned to see a big white park-warden truck pull into the driveway at RCMP headquarters.

  “What’s your dad doing at the police station?” Shilo asked.

  Cricket shrugged. “I dunno. The campgrounds are getting full. Maybe a bear broke into somebody’s cooler.”

  Cricket’s dad was a warden in Waterton Lakes National Park. He spent a lot of time sorting out disagreements between wildlife and tourists.

  The girls waved to Warden McKay, then crossed the street to the theater. They lined up at the ticket window outside and then Cricket bought some licorice from Sabina at the snack counter.

  Cricket and Shilo climbed the stairs to the first row of the balcony. Because the theater was in the opera house, it had scrunchy seats and no cup holders—but the balcony was cool.

  The lights dimmed, and Cricket opened her licorice. In the middle of the third preview, the screen suddenly went black. The theater was completely dark.

  “What’s going on?” Shilo’s voice was tense.

  Orange emergency lights snapped on. The exit near the stage glowed. The girls looked at each other, their eyes wide. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

  “Um, sorry, folks,” Sabina’s voice echoed through the theater. “We’ve completely lost power. There’s no fire, no emergency, but please exit the building.”

  Cricket tucked the licorice into her pocket, and the girls felt their way down the stairs. Sabina directed everyone out onto the sidewalk.

  “The lights are off everywhere,” Cricket said. She pointed down the street, where people huddled outside dark restaurants and stores.

  “Great,” Shilo said. She squished closer to Cricket. She was a daredevil and a tomboy, but Shilo really didn’t like the dark.

  “Hey, here’s my dad,” Cricket said. The big park-warden truck stopped in front of the opera house. Its orange warning lights flashed, lighting up the street and people’s faces.

  Warden McKay lowered the truck window. “Do you girls want a ride?”

  “You bet!” Shilo said.

  The girls climbed in and did up their seat belts.

  “The power’s out all over the village,” said Warden McKay. “I’ve got reports of a problem near the front gate. Would you girls like to come on an adventure with me?”

  Cricket smiled. “Sure thing, Dad.”

  Warden McKay drove through the darkened village. Windows that should have sparkled with light were flat and dark.

  “This is kind of creepy,” Shilo said.

  Warden McKay scanned the tree line as he drove.

  “What are you looking for, Dad?”

  “Something must have knocked the power line down. Can you keep a lookout?”

  “Sure.” It was hard to see the power lines in the dark.

  “Do you smell smoke?” Shilo asked.

  Cricket inhaled deeply. “Like campfire smoke?”

  “Sort of.”

  Warden McKay slowed down.

  “Nope. That’s no campfire,” he said. On the edge of Beaver Pond, an electrical pole was on fire. Flames shot high into the black sky.

  “That’s the pole the osprey nest was on!” Cricket exclaimed.

  Every April, three pairs of ospreys arrived in Waterton after a long migration from South America. One pair kept coming back to its nest on the power pole at the park entrance. Each spring, it raised a new family of baby ospreys.

  Warden McKay parked the truck and checked that the power lines were still attached to the pole. He handed the girls two large flashlights. “I’m going to radio the fire department. You girls search for birds—but don’t get too close to the pole.”

  The girls stepped carefully through the tall grass that bordered the pond. They didn’t know if they were looking for eggs, chicks or an injured adult osprey.

  The howl of a siren grew louder. The Cardston Fire Department was on its way.

  Chapter Two

  In minutes, the flashing red lights of the Cardston Fire Department trucks lit up the night. The trucks pulled onto the grass and turned off their sirens. The engines rumbled like the deep growl of a bear.

  Cricket and Shilo ran over to the trucks, where
Warden McKay was talking with the firemen.

  “I don’t know if there is any power in those lines,” Cricket’s dad said, pointing to the overhead lines that came into the park.

  The fire chief frowned. “It’s too dangerous to spray water on them until we know if they have power. The fire might burn itself out, but embers could spark a new fire in the grass.” He directed his crew to carry fire extinguishers out near the pole.

  Warden McKay turned to the girls. “Did you find anything out there, girls?”

  Cricket and Shilo shook their heads.

  “Search quickly. I’m going to help drag the hoses out there. If we need to blast the pole with water, you can’t be in the way.” He reached into his truck for a heavy canvas bag. “When you find them, put the chicks in here so you don’t get scratched or bitten.”

  The girls ran back through the grass. They needed to find the osprey babies fast, before the chance for rescue was gone.

  “Do you see anything?” Cricket called to Shilo.

  “Not yet—but hey! Watch out!” Shilo covered her head and ducked as something swooped out of the darkness. It was an adult osprey! A high-pitched whistle screamed through the air. The osprey swooped at Cricket. Its talons were stretched out in front of it, aimed at her head.

  “Yikes!” Cricket covered her head with her arms and crouched low in the grass.

  The osprey circled. It whistled a few more times, then flew off into the darkness.

  “Wow! That freaked me out!” Shilo’s eyes were huge.

  “That osprey was defending something. We must be close,” Cricket said.

  Cricket spotted something in the stiff brown grass. It was fluffy and tan-colored and only about the size of her fist. The fluffball opened its black beak and squawked.

  “Found one!”

  “Really? Is it okay?”

  “I think so.” The chick tried to peck Cricket’s hand as she nudged it into the open bag.

  “Hey! Here’s two more,” Shilo said.

  Cricket rolled them into the canvas bag. “They seem stunned,” she said. “I hope they’re okay.”

  Warden McKay joined the girls. “Did you find any birds?” he asked.

  “Yup. We found three chicks.” Cricket opened the bag for her dad to have a peek.

  “Good work, girls. They still have their fluff, so they must be really young, maybe only six days old.”

  “Wow,” Shilo said. “Do you think there are any more?”

  Warden McKay shook his head. “An osprey clutch is almost always three eggs. Sometimes two, but I’ve never seen four. Let’s get out of the way now and let the firemen take care of this mess.”

  They walked back to the truck and climbed in. Cricket settled the canvas bag onto her lap.

  “What’s going to happen to the chicks now, Dad?”

  “I don’t know, Cricket. If we had left them on the ground, they almost certainly would have died or been eaten. Osprey chicks rarely survive away from their parents.”

  The girls looked at each other. Shilo nudged Cricket with her knee.

  “We can look after them, Dad. Shilo and I will take care of them until you can get them back with their parents.”

  Warden McKay shook his head. “This isn’t like taking home a kitten or a puppy—or even a bucket of crickets. Ospreys are wild animals, and they will have to go back to the wild as soon as possible. Do you understand that?”

  The girls nodded. “We can do it,” they said.

  Chapter Three

  Cricket found a large cardboard box in her garage and carefully set the canvas bag inside it. The three chicks escaped the bag. They hopped and bobbed around the box. One chick straightened his legs and stretched his neck to see over the side. All three of them were covered with tan-colored down that didn’t look like feathers at all. Their wings flopped. Their beaks looked razor sharp. When they weren’t squawking loudly, the chicks stretched their mouths wide open.

  “They sure look hungry,” Shilo said.

  “What do baby ospreys eat?” Cricket asked.

  “I dunno. Can we call your dad?”

  Cricket shook her head. “He’s busy with the firemen. But I bet Mom will help. Let’s go see what’s in the fridge.”

  Mrs. McKay helped them search for anything that might look tasty to a baby osprey. Cricket carried a strange picnic of raw chicken and broccoli to the garage.

  “What do you want to try first?” Cricket asked.

  “I think they’ll like the chicken best. It’s meat and it’s raw—perfect for a wild animal,” Shilo said. She dangled the raw chicken in front of the chicks.

  All three ospreys pecked at the meat, then started squawking again. When she dropped the piece of broccoli into the box, the chicks hopped backward, as if she had thrown a snake in with them.

  Shilo laughed. “They like vegetables as much as I do.”

  Cricket shook her head. “Maybe they’re just not hungry enough.”

  “What are you going to do with them? Are you going to leave them in the garage?”

  Cricket looked around. The garage was small and dark and smelled like car exhaust. “Nope. Got any other ideas?”

  “They would probably like to be up high,” Shilo said. “What about my tree house?”

  Cricket nodded slowly. Shilo’s tree house was their favorite hideout.

  “Being outside would be good,” Cricket said. “But the chicks wouldn’t have anyone to protect them. They’d probably attract all kinds of other animals with so much squawking.”

  “Right. So maybe not outside,” Shilo said.

  “I guess in my bedroom, right by the window, would work.”

  “Sure. They’ll be safe there.”

  Shilo led the way into the house as Cricket carried the box in both arms. They climbed the stairs to Cricket’s bedroom on the top floor. Cricket placed the box on her dresser, right in front of the window, and Shilo raised the blinds. The moon was bright and full.

  “There you go. That’s a better view than the garage and safer than the tree house,” Shilo said.

  The chicks immediately began to squawk.

  “Does that mean they like it?” Shilo asked.

  Cricket shrugged and rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long, noisy night.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, Cricket, are you in here?” Cricket’s older brother raised his voice over the chicks’ squawking.

  Cricket groaned and pulled the pillow off her head. “Tyler? Is it morning yet?”

  The osprey chicks fell silent, as though they were listening to the conversation.

  “Barely. How can you sleep with all that noise?”

  “I can’t,” Cricket said. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. “The chicks must be hungry, but they wouldn’t eat anything we gave them last night.”

  Shilo’s red ballcap poked through the doorway. “I’ve brought a couple of things they might like.” She unwrapped a napkin in her hand.

  Cricket raised her eyebrows. “Scrambled eggs and bacon?”

  Tyler sniffed the bits of food. “They smell funny.”

  “The power’s still out, so my mom used the barbecue to cook.” Shilo nibbled a tidbit of bacon. “Tastes okay though. Want to try some?”

  Tyler raised his hands and backed toward the doorway. “No, thanks! I’m going to go do some research and find out what those birds really eat—and I’m sure it’s not scrambled eggs!”

  Shilo shrugged and turned to Cricket. “Where’s he going to do research? There’s no Internet with the power out.”

  Tyler’s voice echoed from down the hall, “I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way—with books!”

  Cricket rolled her eyes, and both girls laughed.

  Shilo watched the osprey chicks while Cricket got dressed. They didn’t move when she dropped the bits of bacon and scrambled eggs beside them.

  “They must be hungry,” Shilo said. “Ospreys are like eagles, right? And eagles eat mice and dead stuff, don’t they?”<
br />
  Just then there was a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Come in!” Cricket called.

  Tyler walked in, carrying an open encyclopedia. “Boy, they don’t look anything like a full-grown osprey,” he said. “Are you sure you got the right birds?”

  The girls turned to look at the picture he had found. The adult osprey had a sleek white head and dark wings, very different from the fluffy chicks in the cardboard box.

  “Is that the bird that swooped at us last night?” Shilo asked.

  “I think so,” Cricket said. “Does it tell you what they eat?”

  “Yup. They only eat fish. It says here they don’t fly more than six miles from their nest to find food.”

  “So these ospreys must have been eating fish from the pond or Waterton Lakes,” Shilo said.

  “And they need about six pounds of food a day,” Tyler read.

  “Each?” the girls said at the same time.

  Tyler looked up. “I don’t know. But we better go fishing before they starve. Good thing school is canceled.”

  Beaver Pond was a long bike ride from Cricket’s house. When they finally arrived, the girls flopped onto the grass to catch their breath. Tyler propped his bike against a picnic table.

  “Hey, cool, the guys from the power company are here,” he said. The big green FortisAlberta truck was parked near the charred power pole. The bucket of the truck lifted one man up to work on the power lines while another man watched from the ground.

  “I’m going to see if they know how the fire started,” Tyler said and took off through the grass.

  Shilo snapped the fishing rods together and straightened the lines.

  “Ew, what’s that?” Cricket pointed to a lump of worms in the tackle box.

  Shilo shook a worm free of the lump and speared it with the hook. She laughed at the disgusted look on Cricket’s face. “It’s plastic, silly. Here, put one on your hook.”

  The plastic worm felt wiggly and squishy, like a real worm. Cricket threaded it onto her hook. Then the girls cast their lines. Shilo’s reel zinged as her hook soared through the air and then plunked into the water. Cricket forgot to release her reel before casting and nearly snagged Shilo’s hair.