Free House of Wings by Betsy Byars Page B

Let me have that.” He took the grasshopper from Sammy and held it up to the crane. There was no reaction. His grandfather waited a minute and then handed the grasshopper back to Sammy. “I don’t reckon he’s hungry now,” he said in a disappointed voice.
    With the grasshopper wiggling in his hand, Sammy went slowly into the house and up the stairs. The top floor of the house was tidier than the first floor. No mud had been tracked up here and the geese rarely came up the stairs. All the furniture was in place and the beds were covered with spreads.
    Sammy walked cautiously down the hall and into the bathroom. The linoleum was cool beneath his feet and all the spigots dripped a little, making a pleasant rhythmic sound. Vines grew over the windows so that no sun ever came in, and the bathroom was as dark and cool as the forest. Sammy thought that it was no wonder the owl liked it up here.
    He stopped in the middle of the room and looked up. An old shower curtain, torn and sagging, was pushed against the wall, and there was a shelf behind the curtain with old hair-tonic bottles on it. Just under the shelf on the shower pipe was the owl. The owl’s head was turned toward Sammy. His yellow eyes looked unblinkingly at him.
    Sammy said, “I brought you something.” He put the grasshopper down into the tub. “This is yours.” He backed away slowly.
    The owl kept watching Sammy. He blinked his eyes once, his lower lids moving up to meet the top lids, and then he turned his head and looked down into the tub.
    The tub was stained with rust where the water dripped, and the dust of several years lay in the bottom. The grasshopper, at the far end of the tub, began hopping up against the side and falling back.
    The owl’s look intensified. His pupils snapped open. He strained upward, and then suddenly he bobbed from side to side, swaying, his eyes on the grasshopper. He leaned forward. His talons tightened on the shower pipe. His eyes seemed to pierce the grasshopper. The grasshopper jumped again and fell back into the tub.
    Sammy was holding his breath. His eyes went from the owl to the grasshopper.
    The owl was motionless now. His stare was fixed. The grasshopper leaped one more time and fell back. It remained in the corner of the tub. Both the owl and the grasshopper were motionless then.
    The owl made a faint hissing sound, like steam escaping. Then he swooped down into the tub and pounced on the grasshopper with both feet. His talons curled around the grasshopper, and he put it in his mouth.
    The owl’s mouth seemed enormous when he opened it, and Sammy stood silently watching him eat. When the owl finished he flew back to the shower pipe and turned his head to Sammy.
    Sammy was standing there with his mouth hanging open. He was thinking that this house had everything—geese, a parrot in the kitchen, a crane, and an owl in the bathroom.
    Then suddenly Sammy noticed how intently the owl was staring at him. He took a step backward. He said quickly, “That was the only one I could find.” He backed out into the hall and went quietly down the stairs.

NIGHT COMES
    S AMMY AND HIS GRANDFATHER force-fed the crane again after supper, but the crane still made no effort to help. He just allowed himself to be fed after a brief struggle.
    Sammy’s grandfather stood looking at the ruffled, battered crane, then he looked down in the bowl at the remaining food and he sighed. “Them cranes I used to know could eat a hundred and fifty grasshoppers in the morning and a hundred and fifty at night. That’s a hundred and fifty each.” He shook his head. “This don’t look good.”
    “His not eating?”
    His grandfather answered, “Everything don’t look good.” It was a judgment. “Not eating, not caring, not trying to get away, not doing nothing.”
    “I don’t guess there’s any way to make him want to live,” Sammy said.
    “You know, that’s a funny thing. I got me three wild ducklings one time—my dog brought one home