"Josiah, help me with this firewood!"
Credence blew an exasperated breath, trying in vain to move the hair that was clinging to her face, tickling her cheeks and irritating her vision.
Her little brother did not answer.
"Josiah!" she called again and was greeted with more vexing silence. Credence felt the urge to curse bubble in her throat but stifled it lest someone might be listening and tattle.
Someone was always listening.
With a groan she tried to heave the heavy wood higher into her arms, but it fell to the ground with a less than amusing clatter.
"Damn it all!"
A small giggle rose from a corner of the barn.
"I heard you, I heard you!"
Josiah's annoying habit of singing his taunts rang loudly, and the eight-year-old scoundrel jumped out from hiding.
"Pa will have a spanking for you!"
He laughed and bopped his sister's nose to emphasize his jeer. Credence tensed to strike back with fists, but used the moment to tuck her hair behind her ears and cut her brother down with words instead.
"Pa will have one for you too, when he discovers you've been shirking chores and hiding from me."
"Was not," Josiah whined, still wearing a mischievous smile. "I got distracted is all. By something important."
"Pa won't think so."
"He will!"
"What could be more important than chores?"
"Won't say if you're going to tattle."
"Won't escape a spanking if you don't reveal your secret."
Josiah huffed and puffed before reluctantly bringing his closed fist before Credence's face.
"Seemed like it was in trouble, like it needed help. I couldn't say no."
He opened his fist and Credence gasped at an impossibly tiny bird with a long sharp beak nestled in his palm.
"A hummingbird," Credence cooed. "He's so tiny!"
"Just a baby looks like, and he's cold. Do you think you could...?"
Josiah's voice trailed off and a small blush appeared on his cheeks.
It was a secret between them that sometimes, only very rarely, Credence could hear the voices of animals. It didn't always work, but Josiah beamed to see it done, for it seemed he did not have the same gift. They kept Credence's talent hidden from their parents, though neither understood why, other than it simply felt like the right thing to do.
Credence leaned her ear down to Josiah's hand and held her breath. She waited a moment, focusing on the bird. It was a bit like listening to the wind, trying to find a gentle current that carried an even softer pitch. At first she could only hear the sound of Josiah's breathing, but then, just barely, Credence caught a whimper, and then a scattering of words, high-pitched and humming: "Mmmmama...mama...maaa..."
"Don't fret, little bird," Credence whispered as quietly as she could, "we'll help you."
The animals never understood her, but she liked talking back anyway.
"It needs its mother."
"I've been trying to find the nest," said Josiah, guilt creeping into his voice. "That's why I wasn't doing chores. You know I couldn't just leave it."
Credence smiled at her brother. "I won't tell Pa."
"Wasn't going to tell him about you cursing neither, 'Crence."
He used her nickname, a leftover from when he was learning to speak as a baby. At the time he couldn't pronounce the full 'Credence', so he'd shortened it into a babbled " 'Crence!" to get her attention. It stuck ever since, though now it was mainly used when he wanted to sway Credence's mind. It struck a spot in his sister's heart and she rarely refused him when he employed it.
"All right. Chores can wait. Let's find its ma."
They searched up and down the barn—"Hummingbirds make very small nests," Credence warned, "so keep a sharp eye and be careful!"—but soon they'd looked in every nook and cranny with no success. Convinced they were out of any other options, they climbed the roof—a direct violation of the rules, so they did it as quietly as they could lest Ma or Pa caught them.
No sooner had they peeked over the edge did they see Ma, broom in hand, chatting to the empty air. The sight may have given them pause, if it hadn't been a fairly common thing to find Ma acting in a strange yet benign manner.
"Always talking to herself," Credence muttered, then added with a smile, "Pa says it's odd." Credence knew that Pa loved Ma's oddness, and it had been one of her many great qualities that charmed him in the first place.
"Ma's not talking to herself—look!" Josiah pointed and when Credence squinted she could just make out a bird flitting to and fro around Ma's head. A small bird with a long, sharp beak.
"I know," Ma said wistfully, "you think you have all the time in the world with them, but you blink an eye and they've gotten bigger and bigger!" The bird chirped and Ma nodded. "It's the same with my eldest, Credence. Always looking for a reason to leave the nest." Credence blushed when she heard her name. "We do what we can with the time we are given, and love them fiercely through it all."
Josiah nudged his sister with his elbow. "Do you think...can Ma talk to birds?"
"Knowing Ma do you doubt it?"
Josiah smiled. Ma was the most gentle, wonderful person he knew, though admittedly he didn't know many. Stern when she had to be, but always kind, with a bit of old magic about her. Pa was all hands and muscles, and Josiah believed he could move mountains with his arms—but Ma? Ma could move mountains with words alone.
" 'Crence, that bird could be the mother of—"
"Already thought of that."
"We should ask."
"And reveal to Ma we've been spying on her from the roof?"
"Ah, she won't be too mad when she sees we're trying to help."
Credence remained silent, planning how best to go about the precarious situation. Perhaps they could slowly make their way down the roof without being noticed...
Josiah, as usual, had a different approach.
"Ma!" he called loudly, and Credence smacked the back of his head. Ma looked up, and even the bird she was speaking to turned to stare at them. Ma's eyes got wide as she registered the sight of her son and daughter on the roof, and her children could almost feel her hand tighten around the broom.
"We've got a bird! It's lost and needs its ma!" Josiah resisted the urge to raise his fist to show her, not wanting to rattle the baby inside. Ma's brow furrowed and she leaned over to say something to the bird, though the children could not hear what.
"She's going to fly over and have a look," Ma called to them. "Open your palm Josiah, but don't jostle the baby. Stay very still!"
"All right, Ma!" Josiah extended his arm and opened his hand, and both children held their breath.
A tiny bird, not much bigger than the one in Josiah's palm, flew in front of their faces, so close they could hear the bee-like buzzing of her wings. She was a lovely brown hummingbird, and her dark, shiny eyes held the children's clear reflection when she looked at them. Credence and Josiah stared back with immense curiosity, trying not to move as she flittered around them.
When she had deemed them safe she landed on Josiah's hand to have a look at the baby. She nudged it softly with her head and immediately the baby opened its eyes and began to chirp at her, beeping and tittering excitedly. The motherbird chattered back to it, and Credence attempted to understand what they were saying. She could make out a few faint emotions in their voices: Fear, joy, relief—and more than a little chastisement from the motherbird. The babybird responded with something Credence figured was an embarrassed apology.
After several rounds of squeaking the motherbird flew in front of Credence's face, chirping wildly in an attempt to communicate, but it was no use, for as hard as she tried Credence couldn't understand her words. Irritated, the motherbird flew back to Ma and the two began a very different sort of conversation.
"Oh yes," Ma said with a slight panic in her voice, "I see, yes. I'll tell them. We'll get him home, don't worry." Ma turned to the children, dropping her broom. "Josiah, I'm coming over to the edge of the roof. I'll reach up and you place the baby in my hand. Gently now! Very, very gently."
When Ma was standing directly below them, she stretched her arm up and Josiah, who was still holding his breath and turning a nice shade of red for it, tenderly deposited the babybird into her hand. Ma inspected it with gentle care as the motherbird buzzed around her head.
"Ah, but he is lovely," Ma said. "A handsome young man." The motherbird puffed her chest out with pride and tittered. "You're right, he is a little young to be attempting flight. Don't you think so, little one?"
Ma said this last bit to the baby, who took a moment to get over the shock of a human speaking to him, then squeaked a weak reply before the motherbird launched into another round of what definitely sounded like parental lecturing. Ma nodded her head.
"That's exactly what I say to mine all the time. But does it help? Oh, never." She sighed, rolling her eyes up to her children on the roof. "Let's get you both a drink before going home, is that all right?" The motherbird chirped and Ma addressed her children. "Fetch a small bowl of water, my loves, and add some sugar to it. A few pinches should do."
The children scrambled to obey, happy Ma didn't seem upset by their rooftop excursion, and in little time all three were gathered around the small tree stump in the middle of the yard, watching the birds drink.
"Hummingbirds are very special," Ma explained, "they are protectors of lost children in the woods. You can always trust a hummingbird to be kind and helpful." Through a gulp of sugar water the motherbird squeaked her agreement.
The babybird perked up after the meal, and flapped his wings to show off while chirping with his full voice. The motherbird cooed and snuggled against him.
"Let's get you home," Ma said and the motherbird flew onto her shoulder. With Ma holding the babybird, now squirming with energy in her hand, the motherbird led them to a tree not far from the barn. A patch of soft moss and flowers surrounded the base of its trunk, where a few bees were hard at work and not paying attention to anything else. Above them, just on the third branch, was a tiny but sturdy nest. The motherbird chirped and Ma shook her head with a small smile.
"It really is no trouble at all. I'm happy to help—from one mother to the next." The children watched open-mouthed as Ma climbed the tree with speed and grace, never once jostling the baby in her hand. As if she'd been born to it.
When she reached the nest Ma took the utmost care to set the baby inside, and when it chirped she replied, "You're very welcome, little prince. Now mind your mother and visit us when you've mastered flight." Ma sat on the branch and chatted with the motherbird while Credence and Josiah stood below, staring in wonder.
At last it was time to say goodbye, and in an extraordinary display that the children could hardly believe was real the motherbird flew close to Ma's mouth to receive a gentle peck.
Ma climbed down the tree as fluidly as she'd climbed up it, and upon seeing her children gawking she gave a coy smile, smoothed her dress, and said, "She gives her thanks, but reminds you to stay off the roof. Now close your mouths and let's go home."