On Friday, Shilo helped Cricket feed the chicks before school.
“They’ve grown so much, I think they’re going to jump right out of the box,” Shilo said.
“We have to get them back to their parents soon, but Mr. Sprague hasn’t said anything about our idea,” Cricket said.
The boys had presented their model to the crew foreman the day before, and the girls had given him seventeen letters from all the grade-three students at Waterton Elementary School.
“I guess we keep feeding them.” Shilo picked up the last piece of fish with her tongs. “But you’re going to need a lot more fish tonight. I’ve got track practice after school, so maybe Tyler can help.”
“Maybe.” Cricket felt a worried knot grow in her stomach.
The boys had stayed late after school to finish their science project for Mr. Tanaka, and Shilo was at track practice. Cricket’s mom was working at the post office, and her dad was fixing a fence up at Red Rock Canyon. Cricket was on her own.
She made a snack, packed up Tyler’s fishing gear and headed to the pond. Maybe I can talk to Mr. Sprague some more, she thought. Maybe the crew has already started building the platform!
Cricket pedaled faster, eager to get to the pond.
But as she pulled up to the picnic table, she was alone. No Mr. Sprague. No crew. No FortisAlberta trucks. Cricket scanned the treetops—no osprey either.
It took a couple of tries before her hook landed out in the pond. Her first cast hooked the tree behind her. Her second cast snagged the reeds at the edge of the pond. Finally, her third cast sailed far out over the water, where it landed with a plunk.
“Yay!” Cricket tugged and reeled in the line. Nothing. Not even a nibble.
The hook was bare. The plastic worm had fallen off or been stolen by a sneaky fish. She reloaded the hook and cast again. And again. After seven tries, she still had not caught a fish.
Cricket sat on the picnic bench and hung her head. No fish, no ospreys, no crew—no friends.
Wink—wink? The same gray jay from before perched on the end of the table. He tilted his head and blinked. Wink—wink?
“Okay, maybe one friend.” Cricket wiped her cheeks. “But I have to go, buddy. I have to get home before dinner.”
Several trucks pulling fishing boats passed her on the road. At the main dock in the village, men worked at the washstand, cleaning their catches. Cricket watched them swipe large pieces of fish off the stand into buckets below.
Cricket’s heart jumped. That’s not garbage, she thought. I know somebody who’ll eat that!
The fishermen were surprised but happily gave Cricket the scraps of fish. She held her breath and scooped the biggest pieces from the buckets. There was enough to fill both of her plastic bags!
When Cricket got home, she could hear the chicks squawking in her room. She opened the door and froze. The floor was a mess. Brown fluff and osprey poop were everywhere!
Cricket closed the door. Two of the chicks were under her bed. The third was still in the box.
“Tyler!” Cricket yelled. “Come quick!”
Tyler flung open the door. He looked at the mess and quickly closed the door behind himself. “They got out, didn’t they?”
“Help me get them out from under the bed,” Cricket said. She grabbed a butterfly net from her closet and crouched down.
“Wow, they’ve really changed,” Tyler said as he nudged the chicks toward Cricket’s net.
The ospreys had lost their brown fluff and were now covered with black, woolly feathers. Their gray-blue legs seemed stronger as they hopped out of Tyler’s reach. Their beaks looked as sharp as ever.
“They’re starting to look more like birds,” Tyler said.
“Yeah,” Cricket said. “I just hope we don’t have to teach them how to fly.”