Coo

by Kaela Noel

  Nicolas’s hair looked even wilder than it had last night. He ushered them down a hallway, past a tidy little kitchen, and then into a small room just a bit larger than a closet. “My pigeon hospital,” he said. “See, I love pigeons just like Tully does.”

  Murmuring, hooting, cooing cages crowded the tables and shelves from floor to ceiling. Hoop, Old Tiktik, New Tiktik. Coo didn’t know who to turn to first.

  “Coo, here!” New Tiktik was the first to notice her. “Saved us, Coo did!”

  “Here, me!” Coo whispered. She sensed it would be better not to talk too much in pigeon in front of Nicolas, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Feeling sick, me,” said Hoop. “But worst is over.”

  “Thank you, Coo,” Ka said gravely. “Without you, dead us.”

  “Really Roohoo,” Coo said. “Found me, him. Saved you all, him.”

  “We can’t thank you enough, Nicolas!” said Tully. Her voice drowned out Coo’s pigeon whispers. “We almost lost them.”

  “We got lucky.” Nicolas gently stroked New Tiktik’s feathers, smiling down at her while he spoke. “They hadn’t eaten very much of the poison, and I had enough antidote on hand. But Tully, this isn’t the first incident I’ve heard about.” He paused, and his gaze roamed over the rest of Coo’s flock. He shook his head and turned to Tully. “Do you remember Maureen Beasley? Picks up sick birds sometimes.”

  “Sure. I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “Maureen noticed a little post on some community message board about dead pigeons under a highway overpass. She went to the spot herself. It was bad. Brought me some of the poor babies to check.” Nicolas’s face crumpled like an empty bag. “It was too late for them. They’d been poisoned.”

  “Oh no!”

  “She tried to get the newspapers and even the local TV news interested, but nobody reported on it.”

  “That’s terrible, Nicolas.”

  “It’s the worst I’ve seen in years.” Nicolas’s eyes filled with tears. “Who would want to hurt birds? I don’t understand these people.”

  With Tully’s help, Coo lifted Hoop out of her cage and gave her a hug. There was so much she wanted to say in both languages.

  Pigeons were dying. Because of people. And it didn’t sound like Tully or Nicolas or anyone else knew how to stop it.

  Why did pigeons live with humans at all?

  Coo fought back the urge to cry.

  “I will never understand. Never.” Nicolas shrugged and sighed. “At least this flock made it.”

  “Are they really okay, Nicolas?” Tully asked in a hushed tone.

  “Yes,” he said. “They need to regain their strength, but I think they will be fine.”

  “Well, thank you. We should let them rest, and let Nicolas get on with his day,” said Tully. “Come on, Coo.”

  “No, no, no. You came all this way; please stay longer.” Nicolas lifted his hands and looked from Tully to Coo and back again, smiling. “Coffee? Tea? We can sit in the kitchen for a bit. Some juice for you, Coo? I have some orange juice, and some cookies?”

  “No, thanks,” Coo said quietly. “Stay with pigeons.”

  “That’s fine,” said Nicolas. “I’ll bring you some.”

  Nicolas came back carrying a tall glass of orange juice and a plate piled high with small square cookies, and carefully placed them on one of the only empty surfaces in the tiny room. “All yours,” he said. “Enjoy!”

  “Nicolas and I will catch up in the kitchen, okay, Coo?” said Tully. “Let the birds sleep, if they need to.”

  As soon as Tully and Nicolas left, Coo began peppering the flock with questions. Could they still fly? Were they weak? Was Nicolas kind to them? In between questions she bit into a cookie. It had a pleasantly buttery lemon flavor. She broke up the other cookies and fed them to the flock, who gobbled up the crumbs. Coo chugged down her juice.

  “Very kind, him,” Hoop said when she’d finished pecking up her pieces of cookie.

  “Sings to us, him,” said New Tiktik. “Pretty songs. Like a sparrow, him.”

  Coo smiled.

  “Sick, other flocks?” asked Old Tiktik. “Hurt?”

  Coo’s smile vanished. She needed to tell the pigeons what was going on, but how? She was afraid of making them upset when they were already so weak.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “More flocks sick.”

  “Dead?” asked Hoop. “Poisoned, them?”

  Coo looked down at the floor.

  “Poisoned, them,” said Ka. “Dead, them.”

  The flock fell silent.

  “Stop the poisoners, me,” Coo said, raising her head and looking at the pigeons. They stared back. “Find a way, me. Somehow. Promise.”

  When Tully came back a few minutes later and told her it was really time to go, Coo didn’t want to leave. She stroked each of her flock members and kissed their heads.

  “Back soon, me,” she whispered. “Heal fast, you.”

  Finally Tully took her by the arm and gently led her into the hallway, where Nicolas stood. Coo handed him her empty plate and glass.

  “Thank you,” Coo said. “For everything.”

  “Anytime!” Nicolas smiled. “You and Tully are welcome here always.”

  As they walked to the door, Coo noticed how many pictures Nicolas had on his walls—almost as many as Aggie’s family. But Nicolas’s were all of the same two people: a warm-eyed woman with puffy brown hair and a solemn little girl with dark, heavy bangs.

  “Who are they?” Coo asked, pointing.

  “My wife and daughter.” Nicolas smiled in a way that reminded Coo of the way Aggie smiled sometimes—like he was happy and sad at once. “My daughter’s name is Victoria. She’s just a little bit older than you.”

  “Where is she?” Coo looked down the hallway toward the kitchen and back again. Behind the pigeon hospital was a narrow room with a single bed, and beside that a tiny bathroom. There were no other rooms. The apartment was very small, and it didn’t look like anyone else but Nicolas and the sick birds lived there.

  “They are far away in Brazil,” said Nicolas.

  Coo figured that was a country. She had a vague understanding of geography from Tully, who had shown her maps and tried to teach her about the world.

  “They don’t live here with you?” Coo frowned. “Why?”

  “Coo—”

  “No, it’s okay, Tully. It’s good for children to be curious,” said Nicolas. “They are not allowed to because they don’t have the right papers yet. I’m waiting to be able to bring them here. I hope very soon.”

  “They need paper to come live with you?”

  “Yes. A special paper called a visa that the government gives you so you can come here. Until then, they have to stay in Brazil.”

  “Draw your own papers?” said Coo. “I draw. I can draw them?”

  “Wouldn’t it be great if that was allowed?” Nicolas laughed. “No, only people in the government can give them to us. I hope they will soon. But for now we wait.”

  On the walk back to the train, Coo was very quiet. She held Tully’s hand, lost in thought.

  Coo thought about the flock. They didn’t have things like papers to say where they could go. New pigeons from other places joined the flock sometimes, and no one stopped them.

  She thought about the way Tully needed other special paper—money—to buy things to eat at Food Bazaar, while pigeons just took whatever they found as theirs.

  She thought about the crosswalk signs she and Tully had to watch carefully before crossing the street. It was so different from how birds just flew from place to place, not needing permission from anyone or anything.

  She thought about the rules Tully had described for how humans were supposed to live—rules people like the police officers enforced. She thought about school, where Aggie had to go. Pigeons had nothing like school. They lived, and learned through life.

  She thought about the decisions the people in the city government had made about
pigeons. The decision to poison them. What gave them that right?

  Coo felt a flush of anger. She squeezed Tully’s hand so hard, Tully peered down at her.

  “Are you okay?” Tully asked, frowning. “You look so upset. You know your flock will get better, right?”

  Humans were very different than birds. Maybe Roohoo had a point.

  “Don’t worry,” said Tully. “Everything will be okay.”

  Coo nodded, but she wasn’t sure Tully was right.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Roohoo

  Tully kept her eyes shut nearly the whole subway ride home. Her face was pinched and still, like she was in pain.

  Coo closed her eyes and worried, too. What would happen when the flock was well enough to return to the roof? How could she keep them safe? Her stomach lurched when she thought about it. She wondered if all of them could come live at Tully’s apartment, but couldn’t picture Tully being okay with that, even though she loved birds. Besides, it wouldn’t help all the other pigeons in the city. She was relieved she didn’t have to worry about her own flock for a few more days. Except—

  Coo’s eyes flew open.

  Roohoo!

  He had wanted to be left alone, but pigeons never stayed alone. It was too dangerous. He was muddled from shock.

  “Tully.” Coo shook her sleeve. “We have to go get Roohoo. Right away!”

  The train reached a curve in the tunnel and its brakes screeched like a cat, nearly drowning out Coo’s voice.

  “Roohoo?” shouted Tully, wincing at the noise.

  “Yes! Roohoo is on the roof alone!”

  “He’ll be okay, sweetie!” Tully reached over to help Coo cover her ears.

  The train pulled into a dim, empty station and Coo put her hands down. The conductor announced the stop’s name over a hissing intercom.

  “He didn’t eat any poison and knew enough not to,” said Tully.

  Coo shook her head. She had to make Tully understand. Humans spent time alone, but not pigeons. A pigeon without a flock was a hawk’s dinner.

  “Please, Tully.”

  “It’s a very bad idea to go back to the alley right now. We don’t know who might be there. What if the police caught us?”

  “He will die if we don’t, Tully. What if he dies!”

  “All right, all right. In for a penny, in for a pound,” Tully sighed. “Let’s get him this evening—but quickly! No lingering.”

  The sun was setting pink as fruit punch as Coo ran across the roof. She had taken the spooky inside stairs two at a time and beat Tully to the top by several flights. She had been calling Roohoo’s name since they reached the alley, but there was no answer. She hoped he was just ignoring her. He was such a stubborn bird.

  She thought about all the times Roohoo had been mean to her over the years. She thought about all the harsh things he’d said about humans. She wondered why she was bothering to help him now. But she also agreed with him. Humans poisoned pigeons. Humans made laws that kept families far away from one another. Humans had odd, complicated things like money and dangerous, stupid inventions like cars. Roohoo wasn’t wrong about them.

  Besides, Roohoo was one of her flock mates. Maybe pigeons didn’t feel much loyalty for individuals in their flock, but Coo was human. She couldn’t bear to think of him being alone. She had to give him one more chance.

  The dovecote seemed empty and forlorn. Without the sounds of the flock muttering and moving about inside, it looked more ragged and tilting than ever before.

  Coo took a deep breath. Then she plunged her head inside. It was cold and smelled different—dustier.

  “Roohoo?”

  At the very top of the dovecote, a dim ball of feathers shifted

  “Hungry, me,” Roohoo said in a very small voice.

  Coo sighed with relief.

  “Come with me, you. Safe at Tully’s house, you. Lots of food there.”

  Roohoo allowed himself to be scooped off the nest shelf, but he wouldn’t stoop to riding on Coo’s shoulder. She carried him to the stairs, and he peered into the black hole of the open doorway. Tully was just reaching the top, huffing and puffing.

  “Meet you in the alley, me,” Roohoo said, and zoomed away.

  Tully poked her head out and stared after him, bewildered.

  “Is that Roohoo?” Tully panted. “He’s leaving? All these stairs for nothing?”

  “We will meet him in the alley,” said Coo.

  “Good grief!” Tully groaned, and turned around.

  Coo hurried ahead of her, worried Roohoo would change his mind. But when she got outside, he was sitting atop the boarded-up hut, staring toward the trains.

  “Ready?” said Coo. “Wait for Tully, us.”

  Tully finally lumbered out of the broken side door of the factory, sighing, and ducked through the rip in the fence. Night had fallen.

  Roohoo bobbed slightly ahead of Coo and Tully, jumping from tree branch to fence post to mailbox, sailing across the busy streets, the whole walk back to the apartment.

  The next morning Coo sat at the table, drawing shapes in the leftover pools of maple syrup on her plate and half watching the TV. A dark-haired woman was singing about the number three with some kids and puppets.

  Tully encouraged her to sing along. She insisted Coo needed to practice speaking English as much as possible, even though the noise often made Coo feel like her head was hurting. Humans were so loud. She missed the quiet of pigeons.

  “You can’t practice too much, Coo. Eventually you’ll need to go to school, and I worry about how you will cope,” said Tully. “Though you are getting better and better at speaking every day.”

  Aggie was at school. Coo was alarmed by how many days a week school happened. She wondered if school was like TV—lots of singing and dancing.

  Thump.

  Coo jumped. After spending the entire night hunched in the shadows atop the fridge, ignoring Coo’s bagel lure and rebuffing Burr’s attempts at talking, Roohoo suddenly landed at her elbow.

  “Pancake?” Coo offered, pushing some scraps his way.

  Roohoo wasn’t interested in pancake. He stared at the television set.

  “Humans?” he whispered. “Tiny humans? Furry humans?”

  Before Coo could explain, Roohoo fluttered over to the set. He pecked hard at the glass and then hopped into the dark cavern of dust bunnies behind the television.

  “TV, it is.” There wasn’t really a pigeon word for it, but Coo tried. “Not real humans. Electricity? Zip! Zizz! Zap!” She waved her arms around, trying to remember the first time she had seen TV. Roohoo popped his head out from behind the set, strands of dust hanging from his feathers and beak, and stared at her suspiciously.

  “Humans,” he muttered finally. “Strange.”

  Coo trailed Roohoo as he explored Tully’s apartment. It was fun, she found, to be a teacher, even if Roohoo was a difficult student.

  He scrutinized her careful demonstration of the kitchen sink’s faucet. “Rain, much better.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Falls more places. Tiny bit of rain, just in here, what’s the use?”

  Coo moved on to the cabinets, showing him boxes of crackers and bags of birdseed. These he was much more interested in. He rolled a stray cookie crumb from the back of the shelf with his toe and carefully pecked it.

  “Not bad.”

  Next Coo opened the freezer. Roohoo jumped in and immediately whirled back out.

  “Winter!” he shrieked, beating his wings. “Horrible!”

  “No, no!” Coo tried to explain it was for storing food, but Roohoo would have none of it.

  “Winter in a box! Humans, so silly.” He retreated to the other end of the room, behind the dusty TV again. “And dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Burr, perched on top of his cage, stopped preening his feathers and looked in Roohoo’s direction. “Silly bird, you!”

  Roohoo popped his head out from behind the TV and the two glowered at each other.<
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  Coo sighed.

  On Wednesday morning the sky was so heavy and gray that Tully turned on all the lights in the apartment during breakfast. “Winter after Christmas and New Year’s is bleak sometimes,” said Tully. “Well, it’ll be spring soon enough.”

  Tully was putting yesterday’s dishes away and Coo was just starting her bowl of cinnamon-raisin oatmeal—sharing the raisins with Burr—when Tully’s phone rang.

  Roohoo zoomed from his hiding place behind the cereal boxes on the top of the fridge and plunked down next to it.

  “Beetle?” he said. “Cricket?” He pecked at the phone. “Alive?”

  “Quick, before he breaks it!” shouted Tully, hurrying over. “I doubt pigeon damage is under warranty.”

  Coo swooped the phone away from Roohoo’s beak and handed it to Tully.

  “It’s Nicolas!” said Tully, looking at it and then opening it. “Hi, Nicolas. Is everything okay? What’s the latest?” She went into the bedroom, shutting the door.

  “Strange bug,” Roohoo said, staring after her. “Huge bug.”

  “Bug? No!” said Burr, hopping from the rim of Coo’s bowl to her shoulder and staring down at him. “Human talking thing, that. Not bug.”

  “Hrmph,” said Roohoo. He didn’t sound convinced.

  The door opened. Tully looked grim.

  “What’s wrong?” Coo stood up. “What did Nicolas say?”

  “I don’t want to upset you,” Tully murmured.

  “Tell me,” Coo said. She swallowed hard. What if her flock had gotten sicker? Maybe someone had taken a turn for the worse. She thought of Old Tiktik, and Hoop. They were elderly.

  “Your pigeons are all okay,” said Tully. “But Nicolas has asked around and checked online, and he found out about three dead flocks near his neighborhood. Whatever is going on, it’s getting worse.”

  Coo sat back down at the table, at a loss for words. Her appetite was gone. She carefully picked out every remaining raisin in her bowl for Burr. Tully started doing the breakfast dishes, her phone tucked safely in her pocket. Roohoo sat in the middle of the table, eyeing Tully.

  “Upset, you?” Burr asked Coo as he gobbled up the last few raisins.