by Abby Klein
“No, no, no. Not a people name. He needs a bird name.”
“How ’bout Feathers?”
“No. I think I’ll call him Winger.”
“Winger? What kind of name is that? And how come you get to choose?” asked Robbie.
“I found him, didn’t I?”
“So?”
“So that means I get to pick his name, and he looks like a Winger to me.”
I carefully picked up the little bird and kissed his tiny head. “Are you hungry, little Winger?”
“Peep.”
“See! He answered me. He said yes.”
“No, he said, ‘Peep.’ That’s what birds do. They peep.”
“How ‘bout a fat, juicy worm?” I said to Winger, ignoring Robbie. “Don’t worry, little guy. I speak Bird, and I’ll take good care of you. I promise,” I said as I gently fed him one of the worms.
CHAPTER 5
Night Rescue
I had left Winger safely in his box in the tree house because I didn’t want my mom to see him. Being The Neat Freak that she was, she really didn’t like it when I brought animals into the house. Once I brought a frog home, and she screamed her head off. She told me never to bring anything like that into the house ever again.
But now I couldn’t stop thinking of him as I lay in bed. It was dark. He was all alone up there. No mommy to take care of him. He was probably crying, “Peep, peep.”
I sat up in bed. Oh no! The neighbor’s cat! He likes to go out at night. I had to go rescue Winger before it was too late.
I waited until the house was quiet. Until everyone was asleep. Then I grabbed my special sharkhead flashlight and tiptoed down the stairs, making sure I skipped the one that squeaks. The lock on the back door was really hard to turn.
“Oh, come on, come on,” I whispered. “Just open.”
The lock finally clicked, and I opened the door really slowly so it wouldn’t creak.
I stepped out into the yard, and the chilly night air made me shiver. The cold, wet grass turned my bare feet to ice, but I kept walking toward the tree house. “I’m coming, Winger,” I whispered. “Don’t be scared. I’ll save you.”
I climbed the rungs of the ladder very slowly because it was hard to see in the dark. Just as I reached the top, I heard a little “peep.”
I sighed a big sigh and ran over to pick the little bird up. “It’s OK. I’m here now. You don’t need to be scared anymore,” I whispered into his little head. “You can come sleep with me tonight. I’ll take you to my room where it’s warm and cozy.”
I put Winger back in his box and closed the top, so he wouldn’t fall out as I climbed back down the ladder.
Climbing back down was a little tricky in the dark, holding both my flashlight and the box, but I managed to make it down without dropping Winger.
I was walking back across the grass when all of a sudden I saw my dad running toward me with a baseball bat. He was yelling, “WHO’S OUT HERE? I’LL CALL THE POLICE!”
I froze. At first I couldn’t say anything. Then I started screaming, “DAD, DAD … IT’S ME … IT’S FREDDY!”
“Freddy? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? I thought you were a robber.”
“I was um …” I stammered. “I was just getting my baseball cards,” I said, showing him the box. “Robbie and I were trading cards out here today, and I left the box in the tree house by accident. I didn’t want them to be out here all night.”
“Well, you scared me half to death!” my dad shouted. “I don’t ever want you to sneak around like that in the middle of the night! It’s really unsafe.”
“OK, sure, Dad,” I said, pretending to yawn. “I’m just going to go back to bed.” I didn’t want to keep talking. My feet were freezing, and I was sure Winger was going to peep any minute.
“Come on. I’ll tuck you back in.”
When we got upstairs, I put the box down on the floor next to my bed.
“Good night, Dad.”
“Good night,” he said and started to walk out of the room.
“Peep.”
He turned back. “Did you just say something?”
“Huh?”
“I thought I heard you say something.”
“Nope. I was just yawning, Dad,” I said, faking another yawn.
“Well, good night.”
I waited for his footsteps to disappear down the hall, then I turned on my lamp and opened the top of the box. “Sorry. Are you all right?”
“Peep,” Winger answered.
“Would you like to come up here and sleep with me?”
“Peep, peep.”
I picked up the box and put it right next to my pillow.
“Good night, Winger. Sleep tight.”
“Peep.”
CHAPTER 6
Shhh … Don’t Tell
“Hey, Birdbrain, you’re going to miss Commander Upchuck if you don’t hurry up,” Suzie called as she walked toward my bed. It was Saturday morning, and Suzie and I usually watched cartoons until our mom and dad got up.
“Huh?” I said, half asleep, yawning and rubbing my eyes.
“You’re going to …” Suzie stopped. Now she was standing right next to the bed. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to my pillow.
“What?”
“That.”
I rolled over to see where she was pointing. All of a sudden my eyes snapped open. Oh my gosh—Winger. I had forgotten all about him. But it was too late. I couldn’t hide him now. She had seen him. “A baby bird,” I whispered.
“You are in sooo much trouble. Just wait till Mom sees this. She is really going to freak out. You know how much she hates animals in the house.”
“Please don’t tell her,” I begged. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yeah. Anything.”
“OK. I’ll make you a deal. I will keep your little secret if you make my bed for a whole entire week.”
“A week?”
“You said anything. Now do we have a deal or not?”
“Deal,” I said as we locked pinkies.
“And I get your dessert at lunch every day for a week.”
“What?! You can’t do that! We already pinkied it.”
“Fine, then. Deal’s off.”
“Oh, all right. Deal,” I said as we locked pinkies one more time.
I reached down and lifted Winger out of the box. “I found him yesterday. He fell out of his nest. His mom is gone, and I think his wing is broken. He needs me.”
“He is sorta cute.”
“Peep.”
“Do you want to hold him?”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“It’s OK,” I said as I gently handed him to Suzie. “Peep.”
“See? He likes you.”
“Hey, little guy.”
“Peep.”
“He must be starving.”
“I gave him some worms yesterday.”
“Ewww.”
“Well, he loved ’em.”
“How ’bout something to drink?”
“Huh?”
“He has to drink, you know.”
“I don’t have a bottle of milk.”
“Baby birds don’t drink milk. They’re not mammals. They drink water.”
“Oh.”
“And they don’t drink from bottles.”
“So how do they drink?”
“They lick water off the mom’s beak.”
“I don’t have a beak.”
“Well don’t look at me! I’m not letting some bird lick my mouth.”
“What should we do?”
“You know, one time on this nature show, I saw a guy give a baby bird some water with a medicine dropper.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll go and check the medicine cabinet,” Suzie said.
Suzie ran out and came back with the medicine dropper and a cup of water. “OK. You hold him while I try to put the drops in his mouth.”
/> I held Winger in my hands, and Suzie squeezed the dropper. The first few drops fell into Winger’s eye.
“Sorry, little guy, but you’ve got to open your mouth like this,” I said as I opened my mouth real wide.
“Peep.”
“Now you try it.”
When Suzie squeezed the dropper again, he opened his mouth and swallowed the water. “Now you got the hang of it.”
“Remember, you can’t say anything about this to Mom and Dad,” I said.
“As long as you keep up your end of the deal, I’ll keep up mine.”
“You know, you’re the best sister in the whole world.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 7
Peep
I was able to keep Winger a secret all weekend. But now it was Monday morning, and I had to find a way to get him to school.
Today I was going to be the King of Show-and-Tell. I was going to have something better than Robbie. Something that all the kids would think was really cool.
I just had to figure out how to get Winger to school today without my mom finding out.
I carefully put Winger in his box and ran downstairs for breakfast with the box hidden under my arm.
“Oh, there you are,” said my mom. “I thought you had fallen back asleep. You have to start getting up earlier. You know, there’s an old saying that the early bird catches the worm.”
“Yeah,” I said and laughed. “Robbie told me that once.”
“Well, what would you like to eat for breakfast?”
“Peep.”
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Peep.”
“That. It sounded like your box just said ‘peep.’ “
“Mom, I think you’re going crazy. Boxes don’t peep.”
“Well, I could’ve sworn I heard a bird chirping.”
“You did,” Suzie said.
I glared at her and mouthed the words, “I thought we had a deal.”
“You heard that little blue jay that’s right outside the window.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed back.
“Well, it sure sounded like it was right here in this room,” my mom said.
“Honey, there aren’t any birds in the kitchen,” my dad said from behind his newspaper.
“Anyway, Freddy, why do you have your baseball-card box with you?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, so I said, “Mom, can I have some of that Sugar Cookie Crunch?”
“Sure, honey,” she said, pouring me a bowl of cereal. “Here you go.”
“Peep.”
“There it is again,” my mom said. “You must have heard that.”
My dad put down his paper. “Honey, why don’t you go back to bed? I think you’re still a little tired.”
“I know you all think I’m crazy, but there is something peeping in this kitchen!”
“Maybe it’s the fire alarm,” Suzie said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Whenever the battery is low, they make that bird-peeping sound.”
“Good thinking, kids,” said my dad. Then he turned to my mom. “I’m sure that’s what it is, honey. I’ll check when I’m done with breakfast.”
“OK.” She turned back to me. “Freddy, you still haven’t answered my question. Why do you have your baseball-card box with you?”
“Ummm … because I have to bring it to school.” Boy, was that a dumb answer.
“You do? I thought you weren’t allowed to bring trading cards to school.”
“You’re not, but …” I turned to Suzie and mouthed, “Help me!”
“Yeah, normally you’re not,” she butted in, “but today is a special day in first grade, and you can bring them in just for today.”
“Yeah, just for today Mrs. Wushy said you could share your special collections.”
“Really? Well then why aren’t you bringing in your shark collection?” my mom asked.
“Because the kids have already seen all of my shark stuff, but they haven’t seen my baseball cards.”
“Well, OK, if Mrs. Wushy said it was all right,” said my mom. “I just don’t want you to lose them.”
“Oh, I won’t,” I said, hugging the box close. “I won’t.”
CHAPTER 8
The King of Show-and-Tell
I didn’t want the kids to see Winger until it was time for show-and-tell. I wanted it to be a big surprise. If I brought him in the box, the kids would start asking me questions as soon as I got in the door. “Is that your show-and-tell?” “What’s in the box?” “Can I look in the box?” No. I would have to hide him until show-and-tell time.
Before the bell rang, I hid behind the playhouse and carefully lifted him out of the box and put him in the pocket of my sweatshirt jacket.
“Peep.”
“It’s OK, Winger,” I whispered into the pocket. “You’ll be all right in there.”
Brrrinnnggg. Brrrinnggg. Brrringgg. The bell was ringing. It was time to go in.
“Peep.”
“Shhh. We don’t want anyone to hear you. Now go to sleep,” I said.
I left the box behind the playhouse and walked into the classroom.
“Hey,” Robbie said, grabbing my arm. “How’s that little bird we found?”
“Oh, he’s fine.”
“Is his wing getting better?”
“Yeah, I think it’s almost all better.”
“Maybe I can come see him today.”
“Oh, you’ll see him today.” I smiled as I went to sit down on the rug.
“Good morning, everyone,” said Mrs. Wushy. “This morning I am going to read you one of my favorite stories, Are You My Mother? It’s about a little bird who falls out of a tree and goes looking for his mother.”
“I think you’re going to like this one, Winger,” I whispered into my pocket.
“Did you say something, Freddy?” asked Mrs. Wushy.
“Oh, um … I was just telling Robbie that I think I’m going to like this one.”
“Yes, but now I need you to zip your lips and be a good listener.”
Mrs. Wushy started to read. As she read, I put my hand in my pocket and rubbed Winger’s head, hoping that it would keep him quiet. “ ‘ “Are you my mother?” he said to the kitten.’”
“Peep.”
“ ‘ “Are you my mother?” he said to the hen.’”
“Peep.”
Mrs. Wushy stopped. “Boys and girls, whoever is making that peeping sound needs to stop. I don’t think it’s funny.”
She continued, “ ‘ “Are you my mother?” he said to the dog.’”
“Peep.”
“Max, is that you?” asked Mrs. Wushy.
“No,” said Max, laughing.
“I told you I didn’t like it when you made noises while I was trying to read.”
“It’s not me.”
She continued, “ ‘ “Are you my mother?” he said to the cow.’”
“Peep.”
“Max, that is enough. You are being rude and interrupting the class. Please go sit in a chair.”
“B-b-but,” Max stammered.
“No buts. Go sit in that chair. You are in time-out,” said Mrs. Wushy.
I really did not like Max Sellars. He was always so mean to everyone. He was the biggest bully in the whole first grade, so I shouldn’t really care that he was getting a time-out for something he didn’t do. He deserved it for all the other times he had done stuff to us and had never gotten caught. But I couldn’t help myself. I still felt bad for him. He was getting in trouble for something that I did.
“It’s not Max.”
“Excuse me?” said Mrs. Wushy.
“It’s not Max,” I said. “He didn’t do it.”
“Well then, who did?”
“I did.”
“You did?” asked Mrs. Wushy.
“Well, not me, exactly.”
“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Wushy asked, exasperated.
“Actually,
it was a bird,” I said.
“Freddy, there are no birds in our classroom, and if you don’t explain this to me in one minute, you are going to be in time-out, too!”
I pulled Winger out of my pocket.
“Oh, he’s so cute,” said Jessie.
“Ewww, he’s all dirty, and he’s covered with germs. Get him away from me!” said Chloe, jumping to her feet.
“Freddy,” said Mrs. Wushy, “why do you have a bird in your pocket?”
“Please don’t be mad, Mrs. Wushy,” I said, beginning to sniffle. “I just wanted to bring something real cool for show-and-tell, and I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Well, that certainly is a surprise.”
“Can we hold it? Can we hold it?” all the kids started asking.
“Freddy, I should be angry that you sneaked this bird into class and interrupted the story.”
“Sorry.” I sniffled harder as a tear rolled down my cheek.
“But I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m actually proud of you that you stood up for Max. You were a good friend, and you told the truth because you didn’t want him to get a time-out for something he didn’t do.”
“Max,” said Mrs. Wushy, “I think I owe you an apology. I’m very sorry. I should have believed you when you told me it wasn’t you making that sound.”
“Can I come back to the rug now, Mrs. Wushy?” Max asked. “I want to see Freddy’s cool bird.”
“Of course you can, Max. Freddy, would you like to come up and share your bird with the class?”
As I walked to the front of the room, I could hear the kids’ oohs and aahs, and the chorus of “Let me see! I want to see!” I went to sit down on the sharing chair, but today it wasn’t just any old chair. It was a throne. Because today I was the King of Show-and-Tell.
Freddy’s Fun Pages
FREDDY’S SHARK JOURNAL
BABY SHARKS
Baby sharks are called pups. Some baby sharks hatch from eggs, just like baby birds!