glass.
He lugged his suitcase, a backpack, and a duffel bag back down the stairs. He wasn’t even at the bottom when Lucy spoke up. “Mom said one piece of checked baggage per person. Remember?”
“But I need all my gear,” Benjamin said. “How am I supposed to observe and record New York without it?” His parents were big believers in observing and recording. They said these were the two most important things a scientist could do: watch closely and write down what you saw.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “That’s not what we’re doing this time. The buildings are too tall. . . . The streets are too crowded. . . .” She crunched a bite of cereal. “And what are you going to study, anyway? People in a rush? New neighborhoods? You’re not going to need all that gear for this trip.”
Benjamin paused. He hadn’t really thought of it that way. But it was like second nature to him to look at the world like a scientist. So what if he wanted to do it in New York, too? There might not be many new animals to study, but what if he wanted to observe and record other things he saw in the city? Maybe he could even write a report about them when he got home, like his parents always did after one of their nature trips.
“Just because it’s not nature doesn’t mean we can’t take a scientific approach,” Benjamin retorted.
Then his dad stepped in. “The camera and binoculars are a good idea,” Mr. Baxter said, getting back to the matter of the luggage. “I’m not so sure about the other stuff . . . but maybe I can find some extra room in my bag.”
Benjamin did a quick calculation. If his dad took the camera and collecting jars, he could do without the duffel bag. He would still get to bring one suitcase—the piece of checked luggage—plus his backpack as a carry-on. So he could still bring his other stuff, tucked safely under a sweatshirt in his suitcase. He needed it just in case.
By noon, the Baxters were sitting on a hot, cramped plane. They had been there for almost two hours already, and the plane still hadn’t left the airport. Daisy would have hated this, thought Benjamin. He wasn’t having much fun himself.
He had already eaten all the snacks he’d packed. He didn’t want to run down the batteries on his MP3 player. And he was saving his books—two mysteries—for when they were really in the air. There was only one thing to do, then. Benjamin bent down, unzipped the backpack he’d stowed under the seat in front of him, and took out his binoculars. He always looked for animals when he was bored.
Lucy looked over and shook her head. “We’re in the airport!” she reminded him.
“You never know what’s out there,” said Benjamin. He scanned the run-way from the tiny plane window.
Benjamin could see baggage carriers and airport workers. He could see a line of planes ahead of theirs, waiting to take off. But it didn’t take him very long to find something else.
He handed Lucy the binoculars and pointed. “Look at that radio tower,” he said. “See the pile of sticks on top? I think that’s an osprey’s nest.”
The heap of sticks looked round and even. And just as the kids were watching, a huge bird swooped into it! Even from this distance, Benjamin could tell it was an osprey by the dark mask over its face. It looked almost like a raccoon, if you ignored its five-foot wingspan. “Cool!” he said. It was the last thing he’d expected to see here.
“Let me see,” their mom said excitedly, leaning across the aisle. “You know, ospreys will build their nests anywhere, so long as they’re near a source of fish.” She took the binoculars and looked in the direction he was pointing. “Yes, Benjamin, you’re right!”
Would Gabe know an osprey nest if he saw one? Benjamin wondered. And would he be excited about it? The last time he’d seen Gabe, they’d both been five years old, in kindergarten. He hardly remembered him, except that he had dark, curly hair and a big smile.
His
He lugged his suitcase, a backpack, and a duffel bag back down the stairs. He wasn’t even at the bottom when Lucy spoke up. “Mom said one piece of checked baggage per person. Remember?”
“But I need all my gear,” Benjamin said. “How am I supposed to observe and record New York without it?” His parents were big believers in observing and recording. They said these were the two most important things a scientist could do: watch closely and write down what you saw.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “That’s not what we’re doing this time. The buildings are too tall. . . . The streets are too crowded. . . .” She crunched a bite of cereal. “And what are you going to study, anyway? People in a rush? New neighborhoods? You’re not going to need all that gear for this trip.”
Benjamin paused. He hadn’t really thought of it that way. But it was like second nature to him to look at the world like a scientist. So what if he wanted to do it in New York, too? There might not be many new animals to study, but what if he wanted to observe and record other things he saw in the city? Maybe he could even write a report about them when he got home, like his parents always did after one of their nature trips.
“Just because it’s not nature doesn’t mean we can’t take a scientific approach,” Benjamin retorted.
Then his dad stepped in. “The camera and binoculars are a good idea,” Mr. Baxter said, getting back to the matter of the luggage. “I’m not so sure about the other stuff . . . but maybe I can find some extra room in my bag.”
Benjamin did a quick calculation. If his dad took the camera and collecting jars, he could do without the duffel bag. He would still get to bring one suitcase—the piece of checked luggage—plus his backpack as a carry-on. So he could still bring his other stuff, tucked safely under a sweatshirt in his suitcase. He needed it just in case.
By noon, the Baxters were sitting on a hot, cramped plane. They had been there for almost two hours already, and the plane still hadn’t left the airport. Daisy would have hated this, thought Benjamin. He wasn’t having much fun himself.
He had already eaten all the snacks he’d packed. He didn’t want to run down the batteries on his MP3 player. And he was saving his books—two mysteries—for when they were really in the air. There was only one thing to do, then. Benjamin bent down, unzipped the backpack he’d stowed under the seat in front of him, and took out his binoculars. He always looked for animals when he was bored.
Lucy looked over and shook her head. “We’re in the airport!” she reminded him.
“You never know what’s out there,” said Benjamin. He scanned the run-way from the tiny plane window.
Benjamin could see baggage carriers and airport workers. He could see a line of planes ahead of theirs, waiting to take off. But it didn’t take him very long to find something else.
He handed Lucy the binoculars and pointed. “Look at that radio tower,” he said. “See the pile of sticks on top? I think that’s an osprey’s nest.”
The heap of sticks looked round and even. And just as the kids were watching, a huge bird swooped into it! Even from this distance, Benjamin could tell it was an osprey by the dark mask over its face. It looked almost like a raccoon, if you ignored its five-foot wingspan. “Cool!” he said. It was the last thing he’d expected to see here.
“Let me see,” their mom said excitedly, leaning across the aisle. “You know, ospreys will build their nests anywhere, so long as they’re near a source of fish.” She took the binoculars and looked in the direction he was pointing. “Yes, Benjamin, you’re right!”
Would Gabe know an osprey nest if he saw one? Benjamin wondered. And would he be excited about it? The last time he’d seen Gabe, they’d both been five years old, in kindergarten. He hardly remembered him, except that he had dark, curly hair and a big smile.
His
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