Free The Aviary by Kathleen O'Dell

was sure he had lived a life of abject terror, locked away with creatures several times his size. Ruby had often remarked how lucky he was to be the only nectar feeder in the group, with a bottle all his own; otherwise, he might never get a thing to eat.
    Clara thought she should try sugar water with him, but the honeycreeper was so weak, she was afraid to leave him. His breast heaved in and out. Gradually, the tiny bird stopped moving altogether.
    “No, no,” Clara said. She bent over him and stroked his breast. “Please come back.” A tear rolled down her nose and splashed on his forehead. For a moment, Clara could have sworn she saw his eyes blink. Another tear touched down on his throat, and the honeycreeper’s wings vibrated.
    “Come on,” urged Clara. “You can, I know you can.…”
    His breast inflated, and the bird rolled to his feet.
    “Oh, thank goodness!” Clara clapped her hands, feelingmore grateful than she ever thought possible. It wasn’t until the bird started to hop that she saw how one wing dragged. Unbalanced, the bird weaved raggedly toward the table’s edge. She caught him just in time and cradled him in her hands. How relieved she was to hear Ruby’s heavy tread in the hallway.
    “Ruby!” she called. “Ruby, come here!”
    Ruby came in still wearing her big coat, her windblown gray hair frizzing from her cap. “What you in a panic for?”
    “That little green bird, the tiny one? A cat got at it.”
    Ruby covered her mouth. “Don’t tell me—”
    “He’s alive, Ruby. But his wing drags. What shall we do?”
    After she washed up, Ruby gave the honeycreeper a close inspection. “There are no punctures anywhere, so that is welcome news. We will have to bandage and isolate him for now. I’ll need a regular canary’s cage—something to keep him in indoors.”
    “I’ll do anything to help,” Clara said. “I feel horrible.”
    “The first thing I’m doing after we tend to the bird is check out the wire netting around the bottom of the cage. There must be a hole in it somewhere.” She went to pull the big colander from the cupboard and placed it upside down over the honeycreeper like a cage. “That’ll do for now.”
    The bird fluttered his good wing and bumped against the metal a few times before he quieted.
    “If you think the bird’s frightened, you should haveseen the cat. They had him cornered with their screeching and swooping and pecking. He’s shut up in the mudroom.”
    “And
you
,” said Ruby, incredulous. “You went in the aviary and got him?”
    “I don’t know what came over me. The keys are still in the lock. And here,” said Clara, parting her hair, “one of them got
me
.”
    Ruby sucked in a breath between her teeth. “That’s a nasty scratch. We’ll have to get it washed immediately.” She grabbed a bar of soap and bent Clara’s head over the sink.
    “Oooch!”
    “Stings, does it?” Ruby worked cold water and soap into the wound. “I’m surprised, must say. In all the years I’ve ventured in that cage, not one of the old birds has come near me.”
    “They were wilder than ever this time, Ruby,” Clara said.
    “Because of the little one, I’ll bet. They’re a protective bunch. And smart. Do you know how long it took Mrs. Glendoveer to find an adequate lock for that cage? The cockatoo is a shy one, but clever as they come. He can pick a lock with his claw, but he never escaped. He likes puzzles, is all. Really, Clara, the whole flock of them are homebodies and prefer the cage. They make a show of it, but they’re gentle at heart.”
    “They’re always angry at me, though. You know how I’ve avoided them. To think I was in the midst of them!”
    “Most of us have more courage than we know. Your maternalnature was roused.” Ruby poured another pitcher of water over Clara’s scalp and rubbed her with a towel. “Now let’s see what we can do for the kitten.”
    Clara could hear the cat meow when Ruby entered the mudroom. The