When a Rake Falls by Sally Orr Read Free Book Online

satisfaction?”
    â€œApparent satisfaction?” he yelled. “No! He quacked in frustration. He quacked from the cold. He quacked his bill off. He quacked, ‘Help, I’m falling!’”
    She wagged her finger at him. “That is not logical. You don’t speak duck. I will make a note that he quacked.”
    He stomped up to her, causing them both to clutch the sides of the swinging basket. “Do you speak duck?”
    â€œNo. Do you?”
    â€œYes, and the duck quacked emotionally, not logically. So I repeated exactly what the duck said.” He pointed his finger at the book. “Now write that down.”
    â€œVery well.” Eve finished a notation about his belief in the duck’s feelings. When finished with her entry, she noticed him leaning over the edge of the basket, perhaps looking for the duck. “Ready for the next one?”
    He turned to face her. “What? The duck was the last birdcage.”
    She pointed to several small tightly woven baskets near the boxes. “In those small cages, you will find a bee, and in the other, a butterfly. Once we test those, we have completed this batch of experiments. Later we can perform tests that include taking air samples and tasting spices. Once in the laboratory, we will compare the animals’ ability to fly with the amount of oxygen in the atmosphere at various elevations.” While she waited for him to collect the cages, she checked the hygrometer, both the wet and dry thermometer, and the barometer. She then noted several observations about the clouds at their present elevation and temperature.
    After moving the larger boxes aside, he pulled out the two little baskets. He peeked inside one and turned to face her. “This is the bee. Ready?”
    â€œReady.” He lifted the top, and the bee flew upward out of the basket only to quickly disappear into the thin air.
    He continued to scan the heavens for several minutes before addressing her. “Did you hear him? He definitely hummed, but I don’t speak bee, so write down what you will.”
    â€œThank you.” She made a notation about the bee’s audible hum. “We’re almost finished. I’m ready for the butterfly now.”
    He found the last small basket and held it close to the edge. Then leaning over until his lips almost touched it, he spoke to the butterfly. “I’ve watched you in wonderment many times floating through the air, wishing I too had the freedom to fly. Now that I have joined you moving on a breeze, it’s even better than I had dreamed. Safe travel, my friend.” He opened the lid, and the butterfly rose into the air.
    The animal must have decided to remain with his new friend, because it flew down close to the floor of the balloon. The butterfly then circled a few times before landing on an empty cage.
    â€œI don’t blame you,” he said. “You just sit tight, and before you know it, we’ll be in France. I’m sure you will like France, little one.”
    She gasped. The pigeon had somehow returned and was perched on the edge of the basket. “Look!” She pointed to the bird.
    Once he caught sight of the pigeon, he slapped his knee and laughed.
    Somewhere deep inside her, floodgates opened, and she laughed like a madman too. Couldn’t stop it if she tried. His pure gaiety brought out the longest laugh she could remember.
    He stepped close and put one arm around her shoulder. “We really must capture the fellow so he’ll be safe.”
    She waved her hand. “The pigeon’s fine right where he is.”
    His laughter stopped, and he stepped away, pointing to the bird. “But he might be like the duck and fall.”
    â€œLet the pigeon choose. Why don’t you leave the cage open? Maybe he will return by himself.”
    He piled the cages into a row and opened all of the doors, giving the bird every opportunity to find shelter. “Now that we