The girl stumbled in her rubber boots to the edge of the creek. Water trickled by with a friendly gurgle. A breeze ruffled the girl’s red wavy locks and sent a little chill through her limbs.

She didn’t let the cold distract her though because the sun was out, and the birds were back. It was first time she’d been given free reign of the backyard since the long winter months had chased the birds away, and she had already spotted three new flowers.

She bounced on her toes as an orange-chested bird flitted past her with a high-pitched song. “Momma, look,” she called back to her mother who lounged in a hammock in the sun.

Her mother glanced up from her book. “Yes, honey. It’s a pretty bird. It looks like it might be a bullfinch. Can you say ‘bullfinch’?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Birdie.”

“Close enough,” her mom muttered and returned to her reading.

The girl followed the bird with her eyes as it settled on a nearby sapling. She clomped after it noisily, and it took flight in a hurry. She squealed in happiness as it zoomed past her again and over the little creek to settle on a rock. It cocked its head at her and chirped a few sharp notes.

The girl laughed. It was talking to her, and she was happy. She had been lonely stuffed up in the house. It seemed like years, though she was still getting a handle on exactly what that term meant. All she knew was that she had been afraid she would never see a bird again, but here one was. And she wanted it to be her friend.

She trudged back over to the little brook and took a step in carefully as her mother had instructed earlier in the year. The water didn’t even make it over the top of her boots, but it made a funny sound as it bubbled against the rubber. She smiled at the sound and brought her boot down heavily into the stream with a satisfying sploosh. She did it again, and again, and finished off with a happy little hop.

She giggled to herself and glanced back to her mother, who watched with a content grin. That work done, the girl began her approach toward the bird again. It hopped back and forth on a rock, eyeing her warily. She barely contained her excitement as she skipped forward with each foot. After each sploosh, she stopped to regain her balance and look back at the bird. She was rewarded for her care by coming within a few feet of it before it fluttered up again and out of reach. The bird settled atop the windowsill of the warehouse that ran alongside the creek opposite their home. 

The windowsill was far above her head. She wanted to touch the bird, to let it know she was its friend, so she searched the grounds for an answer. To her satisfaction, she spotted a ladder leaning against the warehouse that the workmen must have forgotten about. It wasn’t placed quite right, and she didn’t think she could move it. But maybe if she climbed to the top of it and leaned out toward the bird, it would be close enough for it to see her as a friend.

She splashed through the last few feet of the shallows and set herself to climbing the first rung of the rusty old thing. It ignored her unobtrusive weight and remained steadily against the warehouse’s corrugated metal exterior. With the first rung tested, she hurried up the next steps to reach the astonishing height of the tall windows. She felt pleased with herself as the bird made note of her progress and hopped a few feet closer.

She giggled, hope rising in her chest as her dream came true. She reached out, too far, and a sound not unlike the squeal of an angry machine sounded as the rusty ladder shifted abruptly against the wall, and she fell. Her eyes never left the bird’s as her red hair rushed up about her face. The bird let out a single sad note as if saying goodbye.

The girl’s heart skipped as splashing sounded around her. She crashed into a rough embrace and bounced as her mother caught her in a desperate lunge. They collapsed against the wall of the warehouse, her mother swearing, trembling, and holding her a little too tightly against her beating chest. “What were you thinking!” her mother’s acid tone came out in a panic.

The girl met her mother’ terrified face, and a sob rose in her throat. She bit it back, upset that she had made her mother mad. “Wanted to pet birdie.”

Her mother blinked in confusion and then glanced up to watch the bird descend onto her leg to look more closely at them. The girl followed her mother’s gaze. She stared in awe at its crimson chest, dark little head, and beady eyes. It chirped at her. She wasn’t sure if it was scolding or congratulating her, but she didn’t mind. She chirped back in her best bird song, and her mother let out a relieved laugh.

She decided that made it a pretty good day.