After stopping for gas, Jack’s trip back from Camden was just about as quick as the drive down there. He did make a brief stop along the way, where a heron rookery was in view from the highway. It was too late in the season for any real activity there, but it was worth a stop to look it over with the 10x50s. Once again there was the thought that most people wouldn’t have known or cared that it was there.

Mostly though, his mind was on other things. He was going to have to put one of the best Kirtland’s Warbler shots on the scanner so he could e-mail it off to various places, especially a couple of web sites that dealt in hot bird photos. It would have to be one of the second set, the ones taken on the branch after he’d had the encounter with the women. There were several real good ones there, and it might be a little difficult to make up his mind which one would be the best.

Now, in the light of a new day, much of his curiosity about the nude women had evaporated. If it hadn’t been for one thing he probably would have pitched the photos of the women into the trash right there at the photo lab. That one thing was their clothing, or rather, their lack of it. It was still the first time he’d seen a live woman nude, and to have seen several at one time, well, that was something to remember. Especially Summer. While she wasn’t exactly the prettiest girl in the class she was better than average, and to see her in the nude, well it was something he’d never expected. There were a couple other women there worth taking a little longer look at, although from his memory and a glance at the photos they were older than Summer and not in her class. He’d already decided that what was going on was their business and that he wasn’t going to show those photos around – it was why he’d put them in a separate envelope – but he wanted to look at them a little more closely some time. Not now, though, and not this afternoon, because there were other things on his mind.

Specifically, Vixen was on his mind. He wouldn’t have wanted to bet that anything was going to happen there in the long run, but it would be nice to have a girlfriend of sorts, even if all she wanted was to be just a friend. In either case, it would be nice to have a birding partner, even if just an occasional one. He hadn’t had that in a while and he missed it.

Jack had never had any specific interest in birds until he was eleven or so. One day he was riding his bike around the neighborhood and happened to notice an old man up the street filling some bird feeders. Because he hadn’t had anything to do he stopped to watch and asked the man why he was doing it. The man told him it was because the birds were fun to watch and learn about, and there was a lot about them that most people didn’t realize. One thing led to another, and he wound up sharing an iced tea on the porch watching birds visit the feeders while Mr. Buckland told him about each of the species and their habits.

It turned out that Mr. Buckland was a long-time birder who spent a lot of his retirement time at his avocation. Jack basically caught the bug from him; Mr. Buckland taught him a lot and gave him his first Petersen’s. As Jack started getting interested in birding and seeing more, sometimes Mr. Buckland took him on birding expeditions of an hour or two around town, in parks and the like.

It had surprised the both of them that Jack’s interest in birding wasn’t just a passing thing. For the next three years they became increasingly close birding partners, and Jack picked up an awful lot from Mr. Buckland’s lifetime of experience. It was one of the darkest days of Jack’s life when Mr. Buckland had a stroke, had to go to the hospital, and ultimately died there. Jack had lost his first real adult friend, and he still missed him. Mrs. Buckland realized just how much Jack had lost, and how much joy that Jack had shared with her husband in his final years. A few days after the funeral she came by the house and gave Jack several sets of Mr. Buckland’s binoculars that he’d used for birding for years, along with some other birding paraphernalia. The 10x50s that Jack had in the Jeep and the 8x35s that he planned on letting Vixen use that afternoon were among them.

Jack realized that he’d gotten much more than binoculars from Mr. Buckland; he’d gained a passion and a direction for his life, along with a hobby. Jack figured that it was his duty to pass a little of it on, and Vixen represented the first chance he’d had to do it. The fact that she was a girl meant that there were other things to explore, and that was just icing on the cake.

The incident at the Frostee Freeze the night before hardly crossed Jack’s mind, except the fact that it had gotten him together with Vixen. How had he overlooked her for so long? She really was a pretty interesting girl when he stopped and thought about it. It was a damn shame that Alan had wound up bearing the brunt of the reaction to the incident from Frenchy and his football friends. When you got right down to it, it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, and it was mostly to be expected from the asshole crowd.

Going on experience, Jack figured that the incident was over with, but it was likely that the repercussions weren’t. It wasn’t as if the incident had put him on Frenchy’s shit list, because he knew he had been there for years and he’d had to live with it. However, it probably had increased the likelihood that Frenchy would want to do something about it. But, for good or ill, Alan’s parents calling the cops and might be starting a lawsuit probably put Alan’s name above his on Frenchy’s shit list. When you got right down to it, Frenchy probably wouldn’t come looking for him, but if the opportunity to cause trouble came, Frenchy would likely take advantage of it.

That meant that he was going to have to continue to avoid Frenchy as much as possible, and especially in situations where he was alone, inside school or out. Most especially, situations where he might be outnumbered by Frenchy’s asshole buddies. This wasn’t new either; he’d been doing it for years, and that was one nice thing about birding; mostly it took place in places where Frenchy and his buddies weren’t likely to show up.

But he could be wrong, and Frenchy and his buddies might come looking for him while he was out birding alone. If that happened it was most likely going to hurt. He needed to take precautions. It would have been nice to be a martial arts master like Mr. Clark last night, but that skill took years to develop and an athleticism that Jack didn’t have, which wouldn’t help in the short term. A gun would be nice, but it would be difficult for him to get. Worse, it would be difficult to keep around – even if he left it in the Jeep; if someone had reason to search the vehicle while he was around school he could be in a world of shit.

Jack remembered a few years before, when a couple of then seniors had planned to go deer hunting when they got out of school. Like fools, they’d left their rifles in the trunk of one of the guy’s cars, and happened to mention it around school. The word got passed from one place to another, and the next thing you knew the car and the guys were surrounded by cops and school authorities who all suspected them of planning a school shooting. It took weeks for the two to get out of jail and they were kicked out of school while they waited – and this was in a north-woods town where most people either went deer hunting or understood it. Considering their age – they were both over eighteen – it wasn’t illegal to have the guns, and they’d been safely and properly locked up, but that didn’t keep people from going apeshit over the perceived situation.

Besides, it seemed to Jack that a gun was kind of an all or nothing thing, anyway. Even if Frenchy attacked him with friendly witnesses around, shooting him probably was an extreme enough response that he’d likely be in more trouble. There ought to be a better way, something not quite that severe, Jack thought.

As it worked out Jack was back home in Spearfish Lake a little after noon, about when he hoped he would make it in spite of the late start. He didn’t plan on being home long, just enough to drop off some of the photos and grab some things he’d need from his room, grab a bite to eat then call Vixen to let her know he was on his way over.

That plan didn’t work out at all; his mother intercepted him as he came in the back door. “I’ve been wondering where you were,” she announced. “You seem to have gotten around a bit the last few hours.”

“Well, I got that warbler photo I’ve been trying for,” he stated, “And I wanted to see if it came out, so I took a run down to the one-hour place at the mall in Camden.”

“It’s nice that you got the photo,” she said in an irritated voice”, “but I’ve been getting phone calls about you all morning, and it’s not about bird photos. Did you really get into a fight with Frenchy LeDroit at the Frostee Freeze last night?”

“Well, sort of,” Jack replied, quickly telling about how Vixen had gotten into it with Mary Lou, and how he stepped in to protect Vixen from LeDroit.

“Is that really what happened?” his mother asked. “I’ve heard stories about you beating the LeDroit kid bloody, and him beating you bloody. At least you don’t look like you’ve been in a fight.”

“It really wasn’t much of a fight,” Jack protested. “I mean, Frenchy just fell down. Well, my foot was sort of involved, and then Stas got in his face. Then some adults stepped in, and I offered to get Vixen out of there. We drove around for a while, talked a bit, and then I took her home. It really wasn’t any big deal.”

“You’ve had trouble with the LeDroit kid before, right?”

“Yeah, for years. He’s a bully and he hangs out with a bunch of guys who want to be bullies like he is. We’ve had, uh, some incidents, but I’ve always tried to stay out of things since it would be three or four on one, with me being the one. I don’t think I’d have done it last night, but I didn’t think it was very fair for him to be beating on a girl. But then, he doesn’t much deal in fair, anyway.”

His mother let out a big sigh. “Well, if you had to I guess you had to,” she said slowly. “I’m glad you protected the girl rather than just walking away. Now, I had a call from Tom Jahnke, too, to tell me how grateful he was that you rescued Alan this morning. Now what was that all about?”

“It was nothing,” Jack replied. “Back before dawn I was driving out to the slough on the south side of the lake where I go birding sometimes, and I found Alan all bruised and bloody, cold, and bug-bit. LeDroit and some of his friends beat him up sometime last night after the Frostee Freeze incident and dumped him out there, so I took him home. His parents called the cops, so that took a while, and then Mr. Jahnke and I went to breakfast out at the Spearfish Lake Café.”

“Well, all right, I guess,” she sighed again. “You did the right thing there, too, and you weren’t involved in anything else. So are you planning on doing the lawn this afternoon?”

“I’d really rather not,” he said. “It can wait a couple of days. I’d planned on going out birding with Vixen this afternoon.”

She started to lecture, “Your birding doesn’t come in front of . . . ” Then, what he said caught up with her. “With Vixen? When did this happen?”

“Last night while we were riding around,” Jack admitted. “We were talking about birding, and she said she’d like to go with me some time. She likes water birds and doesn’t really know anything about them, so we agreed to head out to the backside of the point this afternoon.”

“Stop!” she said, feigning shock. “I don’t believe this! You have a date, to go bird watching, with a girl?”

“It’s just a little birding, Mom,” Jack grinned. “There’s nothing serious going on.” Yet, anyway. “She just wants to see what it’s like, maybe learn a little bit about it, and I think it’d be neat to be able to go with someone for once.”

“You know, I guess I should have expected that from you,” she shook her head. “Most guys would think of dinner and a movie or something for a date, but you take yours birding.”

“It’s not a date, Mom!” Jack protested. “I mean, not a date date. We’re just going out birding. I’m going to give her a Petersen’s and show her how to use it a little.”

“You may not think of it as a date,” his mother shook her head. “How much do you want to bet that she thinks of it a little differently than you do?”

Jack could see that he was losing this battle, and badly. “Mom, it’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure. Think that. You’re not a girl, you don’t see things like girls do.”

As he headed to his room, Jack was absolutely convinced that his mother was now planning the dress she was going to wear to the wedding. There was no need for her to make such a big deal out of his going birding with Vixen for a couple hours. At least he hadn’t had a lecture on being sure to use condoms, he thought, but on thinking about it realized that that subject would be scheduled for his second date with Vixen. Maybe this idea wasn’t as good as he thought it had been. On the other hand, he remembered that kiss last night. Maybe his mother was right; maybe there was a little more to this than he thought.

It didn’t take him long in his room. He left the set of photos of the Kirtland’s Warbler on his computer keyboard, then stared at the envelope with the pictures of the women. It would be a whole lot simpler if he’d just dumped the damn things in Camden; now he didn’t want his mother pawing around and finding them, so they had to be hidden. Some place quick too, for now, anyway. His eyes lit on a school notebook left over from last year, sitting on a shelf. In the normal course of things he probably wouldn’t look at it again, and he certainly hadn’t touched it since the last day of school in the spring. Perfect. He flipped the notebook open and slid the envelope between the pages. That would do for now; he could find someplace better when he got back in the evening.

He grabbed his normal pack of birding gear, which included the camera, long lens, bird book and 10x50s, remembering to throw in the 8x35s for Vixen, then headed back to the kitchen. First things first; he had to look up the Hvalchek’s number, but wrote it on the white board next to the phone for future reference. He dialed the number, but it turned out to be busy, so the next logical thing to do was to mount an all-out assault on the refrigerator. There was still some roast beef and bologna there, and he filled it out with what he could find – mayo, lettuce. There was an onion slice left, but remembering the kiss from the night before, decided that it could stay in the refrigerator for now.

Sandwich in hand, he picked up the phone and hit “redial” The Hvalchek’s number was still busy, so he started in on the sandwich, with Stas hanging around his legs in hopes of possible droppings. Stas was unlucky in that, but Jack took pity on him and handed his dog the last bite of the sandwich, which disappeared in the blink of an eye.

As Stas looked at him hopefully, Jack hit “redial” again. No, still busy. Well, he’d tried; the logical thing to do was to head over to Vixen’s house. His question of “Wanna go, Stas?” was met with a vigorously wagging tail; stupid question. He opened the door and headed for the Jeep, with Stas bounding ahead of him. The dog was sitting on the back seat waiting for him as he set the birding gear on the floor of the back seat and got in.

Vixen lived a good deal of the way across town from Jack’s house, but Spearfish Lake is not a large town. It only took Jack three or four minutes to drive the Jeep over there, parking in front of the house, rather than in the driveway like the night before. Hoping that this really was going to work, Jack told Stas to stay in the Jeep, while he went up to the house to get Vixen. After all, Vixen had hinted – no, more or less came right out and said – that her mother wasn’t thrilled with the idea of her dating. Even though he didn’t think of this as a date, he admitted that his mother might be right and Vixen or her mother might not see it quite that way. While he hoped for the best he wouldn’t have been surprised at much of anything.

He didn’t really expect to be thrown out on his ear, but realized that there was a strong possibility that he’d be heading out to the point by himself. Maybe if that happened he’d wrap up in time to get home and mow the lawn to get his mother off his back about that.

Like a lot of small town houses, Jack’s family didn’t use the front door all that much, and normally went in and out the back. Vixen had gone in the back last night so he suspected that it was the same way there, but under the circumstances Jack thought it probably would be better to go to the front door. He walked across to the door and pushed the doorbell button; no response. He pushed it again, and realized that he wasn’t hearing anything from inside. Probably the doorbell wasn’t working; it didn’t work at his house, either. With that, he knocked on the door, and a moment later Mrs. Hvalchek opened the inside door.

“Oh, hi, Jack,” she smiled. “Vixen said she thought you’d be showing up sooner or later.”

“I tried to call first, but the phone was busy,” he replied apologetically.

“Vixen’s had the line tied up for a while,” she snickered. “I know what that’s like. Believe it or not, I was a teenage girl once myself. Vixen said that you were going to come over and take her out bird watching with you.”

“That’s the plan,” Jack said. This was going better than he’d expected it to. “If it’s dead out where I’m thinking about we might go someplace else, but I’ve rarely seen it dead out there this time of year.”

“What time to you intend to have her back?” Mrs. Hvalchek frowned, beginning to look like she meant business.

“Well, when’s your supper time?” Jack asked. “I can have her back by then, if you like.”

“Around six, and that’ll be fine,” she replied. “If it works out that you’re going to do something else, please let me know. Before I go tell Vixen you’re here, I’d just like to thank you for getting her out of that situation last night. That was the act of a gentleman, Jack, and it could have been much worse if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Oh, you heard about that, huh?” he replied, a little dismayed that she’d heard about it. It was logical to think that the word would have gotten around some of the school kids, but to have adults talking about it was much more problematical.

“I haven’t heard about much else,” she shook her head. “It’s been one phone call after another this morning, mostly for Vixen. Maybe if she takes off with you things will quiet down around here some. If you’ll wait here, I’ll go get her.”

Vixen showed up in a few minutes, wearing black denim shorts and a white tank top; her hair was down, rather than her usual pony tail. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said as she saw Jack. “I was hoping you’d be early. I’m getting sick of the phone ringing.”

“The thing at the Frostee Freeze?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, and you finding Alan this morning. I swear, as soon as I set the phone down it rings again. I had to shut my cell phone off since it was ringing all the time, too. I’ll take it with us but it stays off. Do I need anything?”

“Some sunglasses might not be a bad idea,” he told her. “It’s kind of bright out there.”

“All right, I’ll go get some,” she said, then shook her head in exasperation. “You’d think that no one in this town has anything to do but talk on the phone.”

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