The Falcon's Feathers by Ron Roy

Dink stepped on a branch. It broke with a loud snap.
    â€œGeez, Dink, you sound like an elephant!” Josh said. “We have to be quiet!”
    â€œJosh Pinto, where are you taking us?” Ruth Rose demanded. “I’m all scratches! Why didn’t you tell us we’d be walking through pricker bushes?”
    The kids were deep in the woods, not far from the horse trails. The bushes were thick under the tall trees.
    Josh grinned at his friends. “It’s a surprise,” he said. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
    â€œWell, I don’t love all these mosquitoes,” Dink muttered.
    Ruth Rose sat on a log and scratched a bite on her ankle. “I’m not going any farther until you spill the beans,” she said.
    â€œMe neither,” Dink said. He plopped down next to Ruth Rose. “Out with it, Josh. Why’d you drag us into this jungle?”
    â€œAnd what’s with the binoculars?” Ruth Rose asked.
    â€œOkay, I’ll tell you.” Josh squeezed between them on the log and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He spread it out across his knees.

    It was a drawing of a bird. It had dark feathers, a curved beak, and black markings under the eyes.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Dink. “An eagle?”
    Josh shook his head. “No, it’s a peregrine falcon. They were almost extinct—but now there’s a family in Green Lawn!”
    Dink was impressed. “Did
you
draw this?”
    Josh nodded. “Yup. I found a nest with three babies. I’ve been watching them for a couple of weeks now.”
    â€œAnd you’re just telling us today?” Ruth Rose said. “Thanks for sharing, Josh.”
    Josh folded the drawing and stuck it in his pocket. “Falcons don’t like to be disturbed,” he said. “I was waiting to tell you when the babies were older.”
    Dink looked over their heads at the trees. “So where’s the nest?” he asked.
    Josh stood up. “We’re almost there,” he said.
    The kids picked their way through the undergrowth. Between the branches, Dink could see glimpses of the Indian River.
    A minute later, Josh stopped. “It’s right over there,” he whispered. “The tall tree in the clearing.”
    â€œAll I see are leaves,” Ruth Rose said.
    Josh pointed about halfway up the tree. “See that brown stuff right over the dead branch?”
    â€œI see it!” Ruth Rose cried.
    â€œMe too,” Dink said. “How did you climb up there?”
    â€œI didn’t,” said Josh. “If you disturb the nest, the parents might abandon the babies.”
    Josh pointed to a white birch tree at the edge of the clearing. “I climb that tree and look over with my binoculars.”
    â€œCan we climb up and take a look?” Ruth Rose asked.
    â€œSure,” Josh said. “Only we have to be quiet. I don’t want to scare them.”
    The birch tree was perfect for climbing. The smooth limbs made a natural ladder. Dink and Ruth Rose followed Josh up to a thick branch.

    Josh trained his binoculars on the other tree. He adjusted the focus by turning a little wheel between the two eyepieces.
    â€œThat’s weird,” he muttered.
    â€œWhat’s weird?” Ruth Rose asked.
    â€œLet me see.” Dink took the glasses and squinted through the lenses. From his perch. Dink could see directly into the nest. It was woven of twigs, pine needles, and bits of dead leaves.
    But there weren’t any falcons. All Dink could see was a few feathers.
    He looked at Josh with raised eyebrows.
    â€œWhere are they?” he asked.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Ruth Rose asked.
    Josh looked at her. “The baby falcons are gone.”

“Maybe they flew away,” Ruth Rose suggested.
    The kids had climbed down and were standing under the falcons’ tree.
    Josh shook his head. “They were just learning to fly,” he said.