Free Time to Fly by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

to smuggle in birds illegally?”
    â€œMoney—what else. A smuggler can buy a wild bird from a poacher in Mexico for maybe ten dollars, and then sell it here for fifty times that amount. So it’s a highly profitable trade.”
    I shake my head, trying to make sense of this. “But if the parrots are so valuable, why would the trucker just abandon them?”
    Gran shrugs. “He may not have had a choice. If the trailer came open in the crash, the birds may have just flown away on their own. Or maybe he knew he was going to go on the lam, so he took pity on the birds and let them loose.”
    â€œA smuggler, taking pity on the birds?” I say skeptically.
    â€œThe truck driver was probably not the smuggler,” Gran explains. “Most likely he was just hired by the smuggling operation. If he had a wreck, he’d be in serious trouble—not only with the police, once they found what he was hauling, but also with whoever hired him.”
    â€œAnd the dead birds that the police found in the trailer—they died in the crash?”
    â€œCould be,” Gran says. “Or they might have been dead already, even before the accident. From what I know, a lot of birds die in smuggling operations, just from poor care and rough handling.”
    â€œBut that’s—that’s beyond cruel! How can anyone just let animals suffer and die like that?”
    Gran looks sadly at me. “Exotic animal smugglers are hardened criminals, Zoe. They see the parrots as a money-making commodity, like corn or coffee beans, not as living creatures. It’s a terrible thing. And it’s why so many countries now regulate trade in exotic birds. But unfortunately, there are always people willing to break the law if there’s enough money at stake.”
    That’s one piece of the puzzle that still doesn’t quite fit. Obviously this whole underground bird trade is driven by dollars, but where does all that money come from? The answer slowly dawns on me: the customer, the person at the end of the line who buys the parrot. “Gran, who would buy an illegal bird?”
    â€œMany people don’t know the birds are smuggled when they buy them,” Gran points out. “That’s why parrot organizations and veterinarians urge people to buy a parrot only from a reputable pet store or breeder. But some people are so eager to have an exotic bird that they don’t do their research. Or if the price is right, they’re willing to look the other way.”
    Well, I guess now we know where our parrot flock came from. These really are wild birds, straight from the jungle. At least they’ll have good survival instincts, even if this region is a totally strange environment to them.
    â€œCan they track down the driver?” I ask Gran. “Maybe the police could convince him to turn in the smugglers in exchange for a light sentence.”
    â€œWell, they’re trying to track him down,” she says, “but the truck was a rental, so they may never find him.”
    Since Mom’s still on the phone, I ask Gran, “Can I use the computer? I want to see what’s on the Internet about parrot smuggling.”
    Gran checks her watch. “Mind if I look over your shoulder?”
    Together we head into Gran’s office. I key in parrot smuggling , and a long list of sites pops up. I click on one, and Gran and I read silently together.
    As I read, I grow sadder—and angrier—by the minute. According to the Web site, more than 25,000 wild parrots are smuggled across the Texas border into the United States each year. The birds are sold in the U.S. for hundreds or even thousands of dollars at pet stores, flea markets, and exotic pet shows. Around 40 million dollars’ worth of parrots are believed to be smuggled through Texas each year !
    Gran lets out a low whistle. “You can see why some crooks think it’s worth the risk.”
    â€œAnd look at