A Nest for Celeste by Henry Cole

alive !”
    Lafayette pondered for a moment, then he raised his wings and opened his beak as if to call out.
    “The back wing up, the wing in front down a bit,” directed Celeste.
    “You’ve got to be pulling my leg! Why in the world would I do this?”
    “Hold it right there!” whispered Celeste. “That’sit! Don’t move a feather!”
    The osprey froze in place. “Like this? You sure? I feel ridiculous!”
    “You look great! This is going to be perfect!”
    “He’s going to think I’m about to attack!”
    As if on cue, the heavy tread of Mr. Audubon’s boots could be heard climbing the stairs, then walking down the hallway.

    “ Shh! He’s coming back! Don’t move!” squeakedCeleste as she scampered to a hiding place.
    The boots turned into the studio doorway.
    “Mon Dieu!” Audubon gasped, staring at the osprey. “ C’est ça! Parfait! Toi! Le beau spécimen! You are magnificent!” He stared for nearly a minute, then grabbed a large piece of watercolor paper and a handful of pencils and began to sketch.
    There, in front of her, Celeste watched as Lafayette’s body and wings began to form on the paper. Only an outline at first, but feathers, streaks, spots, and other details soon followed. Audubon’s pencil raced in every direction; his eyes, bright with excitement, studied the bird’s every feather.
    He drew a gaping beak, opened as though screaming across a valley, and wings outstretched in flight. “I’ll put a fish in your talons, like you have just pulled it from the Mississippi,” he said out loud.
    Next, out came a wooden box of watercolors.

    Celeste couldn’t help herself as she crawled out from behind the paint box. Mesmerized, she watched Audubon use a variety of soft brushes and an old shaving mug filled with water as he transformed the penciled outline into an osprey full of chocolate brown and tawny cream. A golden yellow eye blazed fiercely. He added a background sky of cool blues.
    At last the artist sat back. He stretched his long arms and smiled at the osprey.
    “ Merci , my friend,” he said; and he lay on the bed, asleep within several ticks of a clock.

    Lafayette blinked and lowered his wings. He glanced over at the paint box lid. Celeste smiled approvingly.

 
     
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Freedom
    A h! You’re almost there, Celeste!” whispered Lafayette encouragingly. “Just a little bit more.”
    Celeste felt her jaw muscles ache. Gnawing tough leather was not easy.
    “A little more…just a little more…Yes! That’s it!”
    The heavy leather strap fell to the floor, and Lafayette leaped up with a flap of wings.
    They glanced at the bed; Audubon was snoring peacefully.
    “Pumpkin pie,” Lafayette said, “you are one good friend to have around! My, oh my, but does this feelgood. Thank you, darlin’, from the bottom of my ever-lovin’ heart!”

    “You’re welcome,” she said, rubbing her swollen jaw.
    “If I can ever be of any service, don’t hesitate to give a shout, anytime, day or night. I am forever obliged.” Lafayette gave a little bow.
    “Would you come visit me?” queried Celeste.
    “Well, sugar lamb, I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on you,” promised the osprey. He nodded at his wing. “But it may be a while before I come for a visit. It’s a dangerous world out there. Now, you be careful, you hear?”
    “You be careful, too, Lafayette.” Celeste smiled.
    And with that the osprey flapped to the open window, tested his lame wing, leaped joyfully into the air, and was gone.

 
     
CHAPTER THIRTY
A Discovery
    C eleste decided that, until Joseph returned, the safest place to be was in the attic, where the knothole entrance kept out the menacing inhabitants of the house. The nest she made in the old feather mattress was cozy, safe, and quiet.
    She decided to explore her attic home a bitmore. Scaling to the summit of the mountain of mattresses, she studied her new domain. Across the way next to the window, which was missing a pane, she saw