Katherina Minardo, Sculptor

Once upon a time, in a great city, there lived a boy. His name was Oliver, and he was ten. Oliver was an only child. He lived in a high-rise building with his parents. The apartment was neither large nor small, but it had a balcony on which Oliver loved to play.

He was a quiet child, and a loner by nature. But he liked to dream, and his head always seemed in the clouds.

His father was a skilled mechanic at a large car factory, his mother worked as a secretary in a doctor’s office. They were always very busy, and had not much time for Oliver. In the evening, when they both returned tired from their jobs, Oliver would have been back from school for a few hours, and had done his homework. They would eat together and ask him a few questions about his day. His laconic answers never led to much conversation. He looked well, and had good marks in school. So for the tired and overworked parents, his silence was almost a blessing. On the weekends they might have liked a more talkative son, but life went on, and they blamed his quietness on the fact he was an only child. Sometimes they talked among themselves about having another boy.

How Oliver loved to spend time on that balcony. As a child of the city, he did not have much chance to be out in the open. And while his school had a large playground, it was solid cement and surrounded by tall buildings. On weekends his parents took him to the park when the weather was nice. He loved animals, but he had met only a few; his knowledge of them came mostly from movies and television. Once his father had taken him to the zoo, but he felt a little sad looking at animals in cages, or confined to small places. He even asked his father if this was a prison for animals!

But as with most of us, when it came to chicken or beef, he gave them little thought. They were just things his mother bought in tidy little packages at the supermarket.

What he liked most on the balcony was looking down at all the people walking and the traffic rushing by. From this height they looked like toys. And he was close to the sky; on nice days he loved watching clouds change their shapes. Sometimes birds would fly by so very close to him. He loved that the most. Most of all, he wished to be able to fly away.

Oliver’s mother had potted many plants on the balcony. One, a vine, had grown fast, climbing up the wall until it reached a concrete ledge overhead.

One day, as Oliver was looking down on the traffic as usual, he heard strange noises coming from above. He craned his neck to investigate, but couldn’t see anything. Curious, he went back to the kitchen and brought out a tall stool. His parents had warned him never to climb on anything while on the balcony, but he was going to be careful. Perched precariously on the stool which he placed against the wall he could look over the ledge. What he saw made him cry out in surprise and delight.

Only a foot from his eyes, tangled up in the branches of the vine, was a little black bird. Oliver knew it was still a baby because it was not yet completely covered with feathers. The bird saw him too. It stopped flapping its wings, and lay very still.

Of course Oliver had to save him. Very carefully he stretched out his hand and gently, ever so gently, placed it over the bird. Surprisingly, it did not move, and allowed Oliver to pick him up. That was fortunate, as any sudden movement and Oliver could have fallen from his precarious perch. Holding the bird tenderly in his hand, Oliver climbed down and went back into his room. He looked for and found a shoebox, and placed the bird inside. Now he could examine him carefully.

At first he thought the bird must be a baby crow. He had seen them often on TV and in story books. But now he saw that the bird had a fine collar of white feathers around his neck. The tips of his wings were also white, while the beak and tail were red. Oliver touched the head, and the little bird opened his mouth and chirped.

“You must be hungry.” After having made several breathing holes in it, he put the lid on the shoebox, and went into the kitchen to look for something tasty for the bird. Knowing that birds eat worms and flies did not help much, since he had neither of those. In the fridge he saw some hamburger patties. Well, maybe if he took a little piece and squashed it, it could pass for a little worm.

It worked, and after a few mouthfuls the bird seemed content. He chirped and flapped his wings, but never tried to hop out of the box. Oliver stroked the little head and talked to him. And the way he looked up at him, the boy was sure that he could understand.

Never had Oliver awaited with more excitement the return of his parents. What would they say? Would he be allowed to keep the bird? While waiting he thought of ways to make his new friend more comfortable. He found a big old woollen sock, and shaped it in the form of a nest. The bird liked it, and nestled right in.

“A name. I must find you a name.” Oliver often talked aloud to himself.

Jack. The name flashed through his mind. “Jack,” he said aloud, and the bird started to chirp louder than ever. Yes, he liked it.

Time went by quickly, and soon he heard the key turn in the door. His parents almost always came home at the same time.

“Mom! Dad!” He ran to greet them.

Both looked at each other. They were not used to such a welcome from their son. Something must have happened.

“How was your day, Mom? Can I get you something to drink?”

Definitely something must be wrong. He never behaved like this. Tired from a long day the mother did not feel like dealing with new problems. But their son was acting unusually.

“So, Oliver, what did you do today? Did something happen? You are behaving rather strangely.”

The boy could not hide his secret any longer. “Mom, Dad, come and see what I found on the balcony.”

Full of apprehension, they followed him into his room. As the parents stared down at the box, Oliver said, “His name is Jack. Can I keep him, please? I’ll take care of him. He likes me. Please can I keep him?”

It was not the first time that keeping a pet had been talked about. But the mother had been unmovable on the subject. No pets in an apartment. A goldfish or a turtle, maybe. But no cats, dogs, or birds. She did not trust her son to take on responsibilities, and she had enough to worry about when she came home from work.

The father was more inclined to allow an animal in the house. But he did not want to start an argument with his wife.

Now they did not know what to do. Oliver seemed so happy and excited. And the little bird was looking up at them with imploring eyes.

“He must have fallen from his nest. I wonder where it is? Maybe we can put him back,” said the father. Of course that is not at all what Oliver wanted to hear.

“I didn’t see any nest, Dad. I think he was flying and fell from the sky. Please let me keep him. I will take care of him.”

“But dear, he will be alone all day. You are at school. He needs his mother. We must try and find his nest.”

Oliver’s eyes filled with tears. He did not cry easily. In truth, his parents could not remember the last time they saw him cry.

“Oliver,” said the mother, “let’s make a deal. If we find the nest, we put him back. If we don’t, you can keep your friend.”

At that, Jack chirped loudly, and Oliver knew somehow that he was going to keep him.

Father and son went out on the balcony, and while Oliver looked on, full of apprehension, his father climbed on the stool and started to search for the nest. Secretly, he was hoping not to find one, not to disappoint his son. But for appearances sake, he had to look around carefully. There was no nest in sight.

“I told you that. He fell from the sky.”

That night Oliver had the most extraordinary dreams. He had often dreamed he could fly, but this time it was so real, as if he had become a bird.

The next morning Jack seemed happy, too. The sock had proven to be the perfect cozy nest. After feeding him another meal of ground beef Oliver had to say goodbye to his new friend. He was worried to leave him alone for the day. But Jack seemed to tell him with his vigourous chirps, “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

The boy took a little plate and filled it with bread crumbs and some more ground beef, and placed it into the box. “Be good, Jack. I’ll be back soon.”

Oliver usually liked to be in school, but that day he kept looking at the big clock in the classroom. Hours, he noticed, had never passed so slowly. When it was finally time to leave he was the first one out of the door. In fact everything was slow that day. The school bus seemed to take forever. Even the elevator did not want to move faster. But then finally he was home.

He rushed to his room. The box was empty. Oliver had not put the lid on before he left. He did not want his friend to feel trapped. But now where was he? His heart sank in despair.

“Jack, Jack! Where are you, Jack?”

His last word was not finished coming out when something black landed on his shoulder. The bird seemed to have grown since that morning, his body now covered completely with feathers. He gave Oliver an affectionate peck on the ear and chirped happily. The boy was ecstatic. Together they went to the kitchen and had something to eat.

When Oliver sat down to do his homework Jack hopped around on the desk, chirping and pecking at the boy’s pen.

By the time his parents came home, Jack was back in his box. For the parents, it seemed he pretended to be but a baby and did not show how he could fly. Oliver noticed and understood his friend. He knew that his mother would insist the bird be freed as soon as he was able to fly.

Since the bird had come into his life, Oliver had begun to change. It happened slowly, but both his parents and his teachers noticed. At home he talked more and without being asked. He just seemed happier. At school, it was especially during recess that the change was most noticeable. He had never been gregarious; it had been rare to see him play or even talk with the other children. But now he seemed to participate with pleasure in some of the games. And he would talk about his bird to anyone who would listen. Of course, many of his classmates had pets of their own. But Oliver was the only one with a wild bird.

And then, one day as the children were playing, something black dropped out of the sky and landed, chirping, on Oliver’s shoulder.

“Jack,” whispered Oliver, “how did you find your way here?”

Seeing the bird the other children rushed the boy; everyone wanted to touch the bird.

Jack took off and landed on the basketball net. Oliver ran after him, calling his name, and the bird returned to his shoulder. Well, the children were impressed. To have a bird obey orders!

Unfortunately, at that moment the bell rang and they had to return to class. Oliver did not know what to do with Jack. He could not bring him inside.

“Jack, please go home,” he told his little friend.

The bird seemed to understand, and flew away.

Oliver could not concentrate, thinking of his friend. And then one girl, sitting beside the window, called out.

“Oh, look! It’s Oliver’s bird.”

And there was Jack, sitting on the ledge, pecking at the glass.

Fortunately Mrs. Randall, the teacher, was an animal lover. She went to the window and opened it. Jack flew in and landed on Oliver’s shoulder.

“Well,” she said, surprised, “I cannot allow pets in class, you know that, children.”

“Please, Mrs. Randall, he’ll be quiet. Can’t he just stay? It won’t happen again.”

The teacher knew her quiet student well. She was the one who had noticed the change in him. It was an unusual situation, and she was not so inflexible. Bending the school’s rules was not completely new to her.

“Well, Oliver, if you promise not to bring your bird again, we can let him stay. What bird is he? Why don’t you tell us how long you’ve had him? Where did your parents buy him? I have never seen one like him. He must be some tropical species. And he looks smart. Can he talk?”

Oliver was overcome with shyness at all those questions, and did not speak. But Jack gave him a little peck, as if to give him courage.

“I found him on our balcony, Mrs. Randall, about ten days ago.”

“My that is extraordinary.” The teacher’s voice could hardly be heard over the chorus of the children’s voices. Jack did not seem to like all the commotion and flew out the window, but stayed on the ledge.

Mrs. Randall was hardly able to get the children’s attention, and the rest of the school day was spent talking about pets. Jack sat on the window ledge, peering at Oliver.

On the way home, the bird just stood on the boy’s shoulder until he entered the bus, then he took off. He must have followed the bus, however, because he was at the stop when Oliver got out, and together they walked home.

To be continued…