Summer Bird Stories

Family-Friendly Short Stories, Cartoons, and Illustrations

Country Reports

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Justin was very excited about the country reports they were doing in school. He’d spent a lot of time drawing pictures and diagrams.   He’d even done extra chores so that his mom would buy a small treat at the store for him to share with the class. His report was going to be the best one in the class. Did they have a trophy for that?

“Who would like to go first?” Mr. Armstrong asked.

Justin half-stood and waved his arms wildly in the air. “Me! Me! Pick me!” he yelled.

A few other students had their arms raised, but mostly everyone was staring at Justin.   “All right then,” Mr. Armstrong said.   “Justin, why don’t you go first?   I appreciate your enthusiasm.   You must have an awesome report to share with us.”

“Oh, mine is the best. You may as well give me the trophy now,” Justin said. He smiled hopefully.

“There isn’t a trophy,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“A certificate with a gold seal?”

“No,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“A ribbon?”

“Nope.”

“A hall pass?”   Justin asked.

“We’ll see,” Mr. Armstrong said. “Why don’t you give us your report now.”

“All right,” Justin said. “Prepare to be amazed.”   He pulled out the map of Finland.   “This is the site of one of the first alien landings on earth. Over two thousand years ago, fishmen landed and settled there.” Justin pulled out his fishmen drawings. He was rather proud of them.

“Justin, I’m not sure where you got your information, but humans live in Finland, not fishmen,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“Oh, I’m sure that some do, but it’s mostly fishmen,” Justin said. “They’re not exactly trying to hide it. It’s in the name. They wear disguises so that they blend in, but I believe that they’re proud of their heritage, and that’s why they named their country Finland.”

“Justin, I don’t think this is correct. Did you look up your country in an encyclopedia?” Mr. Armstrong said.

“Of course I did.   Then I had to account for human bias.   Did you know that some people refuse to believe that Abraham Lincoln was really in contact with Alpha Centauri?”   Justin laughed.

“All right,” Mr. Armstrong said. “Why don’t you go ahead and finish your report.”

Justin smiled.   “Great. So, the fishmen had the same troubles on earth that they did on their home planet. The rival fishmen in Sweden conquered them in the 12th century, and then the humans came in from the west in the 1800s. They won their freedom again about a hundred years ago.”

“So there are fishmen in Sweden?” Mr. Armstrong asked.

“Of course there are,” Justin said. “Haven’t you heard of Swedish Fish? In fact, I have some to hand out to the class now.” The class cheered as Justin handed out the small packets of candy.   “Of course, it’s mostly narwhals in Norway. They’re more peaceful.”

Justin unrolled his timeline. “I’ve projected their future expansion when Russia and Canada get flooded due to global warming and have to be evacuated. There is some concern that the fishmen are causing climate change in an attempt to terraform the earth to their preferences. They are able to think long-term like that, and now that they are willing to work with the fishmen in Sweden, future generations of humans may see a global Finnish Empire.”

Justin displayed the flag he’d drawn and a poster with the words to Finland’s national anthem.   “To prepare for this almost inevitable future, it would be a good idea to remember this flag and anthem to make the transition easier. I’ll hum the tune and then we can all sing it together.”

After the class finished singing the anthem and then sang it again as an encore, Justin asked if there were any questions. Every hand in class shot up.

Mr. Armstrong came to the front of the class and stood next to Justin. “Class, this has been a unique and interesting presentation.   But, in order to have more time for the other presentations, I think we’ll have to stop here. Thank you, Justin.”

Justin smiled as the class clapped enthusiastically and then gathered his posters. “Now, about that hall pass…” he said.

“We’ll see,” Mr. Armstrong said.

A Mystery Tale

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Little Red was taking the day off from her summer job. The deliveries would have to wait. Recovering from trauma was more important. She was so grateful that her uncle, a woodcutter, had come along to check on Grandma Hood. Things could have gone much worse. Her nightmares had made that very clear.

Mom knocked on the open bedroom door. Red rolled her eyes. “Come in,” she said.

“Are you doing okay?” Mom asked.

Red sighed.   “I think so.”

“Do you think you could go and tell your brother that it’s lunch time?” Mom paused. “If you don’t think you’re up to it, I can go.   You’d need to watch your sister.”

Red stood up and stretched. “No, that’s fine. He’s just up the road.   I’ll go get him.”

Little Yellow was already in her highchair, smashing peas with a spoon. Red waved as she went by. Yellow giggled.

Red trudged uphill to Grandpa and Grandma Riding’s farm. Her brother Blue was working there over the summer. Red scrunched up her nose. Cows and sheep and pigs were a bit smelly. She preferred the delivery business, as long as it remained wolf free of course.

A dragonfly zoomed past her ear, glittering metallic blue in the sunlight. Red turned and watched its path as it flew over the crooked fence of the farm next to her grandparents.

Mr. Crook was hunched over, next to the fence, his hand inside his coat. His other hand held a shovel. He narrowed his eyes when he saw her looking at him. His angry gray cat hissed. It was walking with a limp. It had probably got into another fight with the neighborhood cats.   “Hello, little Red,” Mr. Crook said.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Crook?” Red asked.

“Oh, yes, of course. In fact, I just found a sixpence. I’m going to bury it right here for luck. So I can’t have you watching me. Move along, move along,” Mr. Crook said.

“Bye, then,” Red said.

A few minutes later, she was crunching down her grandparents’ gravel driveway. It was nearing lunchtime, but the sheep were still in the meadow. Usually, by now, they were moved into the pasture that had more trees to shelter them from the afternoon sun. Blue was behind schedule.

Red groaned.   She’d probably have to help him catch up before they could go home. It wasn’t fair. She stopped when she heard crashing sounds to the left. What was that? For a moment she imagined bright eyes and sharp teeth. She froze.

Then Bella stuck her nose out from the tangle of cornstalks and mooed. Red laughed. It was just the cows. But wait, how had they moved from the meadow into the cornfield? Someone had to have opened the gate. Where was Blue? Why hadn’t he blown his horn to call for help?

Red ran straight to the farmhouse. “Grandma! Grandpa! Blue is missing!”

Grandpa Riding ran out of the barn and met her in front of the house. “Red, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s Blue.   The sheep are still in the meadow and the cows are in the cornfield, but he didn’t blow his horn or you would be there to stop them. Where is Blue and why didn’t he blow his horn?” Red was starting to cry. Could the wolf have come this far? It felt like she was stuck back in her nightmares from last night.

“Calm down, Red.   Let’s get Grandma and start looking.   We’ll find him,” Grandpa said.

They started looking. It was Red who was the first to see his legs sticking out from under a haystack. She yelled for help and they brushed the hay off of him. He had a big bruised bump on the side of his head, and there was a loot of blood in his matted hair, but he was breathing.

Red wanted to shake him awake and ask what happened, but Grandma insisted that it was better to carry him inside and call for the doctor. “You both figure out what happened,” Grandma Riding said. “I’ll take care of Blue.”

Red and Grandpa Riding watched her leave. “We’d better catch whoever did this,” Red said. She was so angry it felt like her ears were ringing. No one was allowed to hurt her little brother. No one.

“We will,” Grandpa said. He looked around, and started digging through the hay. “Do you see the emergency horn?”

“No,” Red said.   She started to dig through the hay.   Then she sat back on her heels.   “You know, I did see Mr. Crook burying something by his fence. His cat was limping, too.”

“But why would Mr. Crook take the horn and hit little Blue?” Grandpa Riding asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Someone also let the cows in the corn,” Red pointed out. “Perhaps he caused other mischief that we don’t know about and Blue saw him.   If he thought he killed Blue, he might be trying to hide the murder weapon.”

“I don’t know,” Grandpa said.

“Let’s go dig up what he buried,” Red said. “If it’s the horn, then we’ll know.”

Grandpa Riding grabbed a shovel. They walked back down the driveway and found the patch up turned up earth. Grandpa started digging. Clink.   They brushed away the dirt.

There was the horn, dented and splattered in blood. “Do you have a handkerchief, Grandpa?” Red asked. “There might be fingerprints.”

Grandpa took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and gently picked up the horn.   “I think it may be time to call the police,” he said.

Mr. Crook confessed to the crime. He’d actually stolen several cows and wanted to make it look like they’d escaped on their own. His cat had been injured helping him herd the cows to his property.

Blue had seen him, and Mr. Crook took the horn and hit him to stop him calling for help.   He hadn’t planned on hurting anyone.   Mr. Crook actually cried with relief when he heard that Blue hadn’t died.

Blue had a terrible headache for days, but he was otherwise all right. Red took over his summer job and was secretly relieved to drop the delivery business for a while.   She was openly relieved that it didn’t take long to get used to the smell of the animals on the farm. The nightmares finally went away.

The Traveling Guitar

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Taylor turned his tuning pegs and stretched his strings. He pushed off his cover and looked around. It was bright and sunny and warm. He could tell it was going to be a great day.

He rearranged his rented mannequin and rolled them both to a likely looking street corner.   Nobody paid any attention. They never did.

The balloon festival would be starting soon. He hoped he was in a good position to watch some of the competitions. All the brochures made it look amazing. This was going to be great.

People were starting to walk down the streets in groups now.   Taylor checked the position of his case. It was open and inviting, with a dollar and a few quarters waiting hopefully inside. Taylor strummed a chord and began to play.

It had been three years since he’d escaped the mad scientist who had brought him to life.   His first few days had been spent on a shelf, watching the death of that poor toaster. He knew he was next.

So, in the night, he figured out how to release his strings and use them as tiny little arms.   He lowered himself from the shelf and swung himself up onto the workbench. Working quickly, he used extra parts to build himself small wheels and prosthetic arms.

He left as dawn was breaking. He hid and studied the humans. The first mannequin he used to disguise himself was dirty and scruffy, scrounged from behind a store, next to a trash bin. It was perfect. No one looked too closely at the dirty, smelly artificial man.

He earned enough money by playing on street corners to ship himself to a far away museum.   He hid among the exhibits and borrowed a mannequin from the storeroom so that he could go out and earn more money.

Taylor began to travel and see the sights. He didn’t need to eat or rent a hotel room, so he’d managed to save his money and could now rent mannequins and put some money aside.

Someday, he’d pay for a private investigator to look into the mad scientist’s crazy schemes and hopefully save any other animated objects from his evil experiments. For today, he was going to enjoy his freedom.

A large group of balloons took off and he paused his song and leaned back to watch. It was beautiful. The balloons glowed like jewels against a vivid blue sky. Taylor played a happy tune he’d once heard at a festival in Spain.

Sitting on that shelf, frightened and confused, he hadn’t known that life could be like this.   There was so much happiness and loveliness in the world. There was so much friendliness and kindness too.

There had also been moments of meanness and ugliness, but really there was much less of that than he’d guessed. A tourist walked by and dropped some change in his case. Taylor played a thank you trill.

“He plays so well,” someone said as they passed by. Taylor played a complicated flourish. Someone dropped a couple dollars into his case with a smile.   What a nice afternoon.

In the evening, he watched some balloons go up in the twilight, glowing intermittently like giant colorful fireflies as they floated across the sky. Taylor hummed thoughtfully.

He counted through his change. Perhaps he’d find a library and do some research online and decide his next destination. He could take one more trip before he put himself into storage for a bit. Or maybe he’d go to Australia for the winter.

For now, he’d find a museum or store corner to perch himself and the mannequin in for the night.   Tomorrow would be another beautiful day. The future was bright.

Second-in-Command

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Admiral Bradbury sat back in his chair.   He smiled at the viewscreen. “Thank you for your report Captain,” he said. “Now tell me how your new second-in-command is settling in. I know that the transfer was unexpected.”

Captain Dodgett’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “He’s organized, hard-working and competent. He can also speak all the major languages used in our galaxy. He’s an excellent first officer.”

“So no complaints?”   Admiral Bradbury smiled. “His last captain gave him a glowing review, but said that there were personality conflicts that made it necessary for him to be transferred immediately.”

“Well…” Captain Dodgett paused. “No, never mind. He’s an excellent officer.   He’s very knowledgeable. I have no complaints.”

“Off the record?” The admiral asked. “I’d really like to know why Captain Tasker couldn’t handle Commander Ghoti on his ship for even one more day. On paper it doesn’t make sense. I’d like to eventually offer him command of his own starship, but I need to know if there are going to be problems with his crew.”

Captain Dodgett sighed and leaned back in his seat. “It’s so silly. And yet, some of the crew have complained to me about it. It’s just…”

“Yes?” The admiral lifted an eyebrow and waited.

“Fine, fine.” The captain ran a hand through his short gray hair. “He likes to make sound effects during battles.”

“He does what?”   The admiral looked confused.

“He makes sound effects during battles. Sounds for crashes and explosions and weapons firing and people dying. It’s a bit distracting.” The captain laughed a small, huffy sort of laugh. “He stopped when people asked him to, but he started up again a few minutes later. When asked to stop, he apologized, but it happened again and again. By the end of the battle, my weapons officer looked ready to hit him.”

“That is a little strange,” the admiral said. “Did you talk to him later?”

“Yes, he said it’s a nervous habit. I recommended chewing gum. The next battle, he’d left it in his room. He said he wasn’t expecting a battle. He’s now required to carry it at all times. It does cut down on some of the noise.”

The admiral smiled.   “Well done. Is that all?”

“Well, there are the theme songs,” the captain said.

“Theme songs?”

“He insists on giving everyone a theme song and humming it whenever they come into the room or when they start giving a report. Some of the crew find it unsettling. And some don’t really like the song he chose for them.”

The admiral frowned. “Are the songs inappropriate?”

“No.” Captain Dodgett smiled. “It’s just that some of them are a little gloomy. Or angry. And one of them sounds a bit like sarcastic laughter.   He insists it’s just how he keeps people straight and he doesn’t mean to be rude.”

“Did he change the tunes when asked?”

The captain sighed.   “He did, but then he started getting their names wrong. He says it will just take a while for him to fix his mental filing system.”

The admiral nodded.   “But he will be able to fix it?”

“Yes, I think so,” the captain said. “And it’s been weeks since he last drew a mustache on any one or carried around that spray bottle.”

“What did he need a spray bottle for?”

“Oh he was spraying water on people on people that were arguing. He said it was his duty as a superior officer. We went over proper conflict resolution skills and there haven’t been any more problems.” Captain Dodgett smiled.

“All right,” the admiral said. “And the mustaches?”

“He said it was meant as light-hearted humor and that they’d wash off. However, too many people didn’t find it very funny.” The captain laughed. “I gave him a joke book. He memorized all the jokes and tells them constantly.”

“Is there anything else?” Admiral Bradbury asked.

“Not really.   Honestly, he’s an excellent first officer and I have no complaints. I think he’s settling in just fine,” the captain said.

“Right. Thank you for your report,” the admiral said.

Charlie’s Room: A New Book

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Isaac finished reading the latest chapter of The Mystery of the Overcooked Eggplant. Charlie blinked sleepily over at him “Is that it then, Dad?” he asked. “I thought he’d at least figure out who left those fingerprints on the window by the end of the chapter.”

“ I think he would have if he hadn’t been distracted by the missing left shoe,” Isaac said. “Maybe he’ll figure it out next chapter.”

“All right,” Charlie said. “’Night, Dad.”

“You’ve brushed your teeth and said your prayers?” Isaac asked. He slipped the book into its spot on the shelf.   Then he paused and looked at the shelf again.

“Yep. With Mom,” Charlie said.   He turned on his side and snuggled into his pillow.

Isaac pulled a bright blue book off the shelf. “Charlie, where did this come from?” he asked.

Charlie rolled over and opened one eye. “Dunno. I haven’t seen it before.”   He rolled back.

“Okay. Good night Charlie.”   Isaac took the book with him. He turned out the light. “I love you.” Isaac slipped through the door.

“Love you too, Dad,” Charlie said softly. Isaac pulled the door mostly shut. He turned out the hall light and the night-light turned on, dimly lighting his path.

Marianne was throwing an assortment of things on the bed. She smiled at him as he came in. “Hi. I’m going to take a very long bath. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Just a hug,” Isaac said. He hummed as he hugged her. She laughed.

“What book is that?” she asked when he let go.

Isaac looked down. The book had swirly silver writing on the front that said The Waiting Book. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was on Charlie’s bookshelf. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Is it from the library?” Marianne asked.

“I don’t think so,” Isaac said. “It doesn’t have any library markings.”

“How strange. We’ll have to ask Charlie about it in the morning,” Marianne said. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you in a few hours or so. Let’s see. Candles, matches, book, chocolate, bathrobe…” Marianne continued to mutter to herself as she gathered her things and headed for the bathroom. The door clicked closed behind her.

Isaac sat down on the bed and opened the book. Everything swirled around him and suddenly he was somewhere else.   He got a quick look at a room with white walls and a few chairs and bookshelves. A few seconds later, someone grabbed his wrist and everything swirled around him again.

They landed in a dark, musty room. There were candles and books and jars filled with strange things. Isaac could smell something burning. There was a puff of smoke and Isaac looked down.   The book was at his feet. It looked a little charred.

He bent to pick it up. “Don’t touch that,” someone said, grabbing his wrist. Isaac stood back up and the man let go. He looked tired, and a little scruffy and very angry. He cupped his hands around his mouth and started yelling. “Come out here now, you crazy wizard. I found your stupid book.”

A young man came around the corner of a bookshelf, pulling a robe over his tee shirt and jeans. “Nicolas, I expected you back yesterday. What happened?”

Nicolas huffed and folded his arms. “Your great waiting room idea? Someone has to open the book to let the last person out. And the book hops to a random location every time it’s opened. It didn’t work.”

The young man looked over at Isaac. “And who is this?”

“The person who opened the book after me. I brought him with me so he didn’t get trapped too. I think it broke your book.” Nicolas pointed to the slightly burnt blue book. Everyone looked at it for a moment.

“Yes, I think it does need some fine tuning,” the young man said.   Nicolas rolled his eyes. The young man laughed and patted his shoulder.   Then he held out a hand to Isaac.   “Hello, I’m Wendell, wizard extraordinaire.”

Isaac shook his hand. “I’m Isaac,” he said. “Innocent bystander.”

Wendell laughed again. “Thank you for rescuing my uncle. My grandmother would be terribly upset if I lost him.”

“I rescued him,” Nicolas said.

“Well, in any case,” Wendell said, “let me give you my card in case you ever need a wizard.” He handed Isaac a small business card with Wendell, Wizard Extraordinaire, written above a phone number. “Now I’ll send you home.”

Wendell waved his hands in loops and swirls and suddenly everything was swirling. Isaac was back on his bed, holding a business card.   He could hear the water running in the bathroom, so he hadn’t been gone long. He looked at the card again, and then picked up his wallet. He put the card inside and put it back on the dresser.

House Call

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The washing machine was making a terrible noise. It screeched and thumped and screeched some more.   “Should we call for someone to come fix it?” Mom asked. She looked worried.

“I’ll look online and see if there is a quick fix,” Dad said.

“I’ll look too,” Mom said.

But, in the end, they couldn’t find anything. The washing machine continued to screech, no matter how full it was or how carefully they tried to balance the load.

“We have to call someone,” Mom said. “Let’s look online for reviews.”

Mom and Dad wrote emails for estimates and finally, a week later, they decided on Motor Care Services.

“I’m tired of washing things in the sink,” Mom said. “I hope they can fix it quickly.”

Jeremy, who had to help wash things in the sink, agreed. It wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. Honestly, it didn’t even sound fun. When the doorbell rang, he hurried to be the one to answer it.

There was a little man made of metal at the door. He was holding an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. “Hello, young human,’ he said. “Are your parents here?”

“Mom! Dad!” Jeremy yelled. “The repair person is here!”

Dad came in the room. “Really? Already? That’s wonderful.”

He paused when he saw the metal man. “Are you here from Motor Care Services?”

The metal man held out a hand and dad shook it. “Mr. Frank?”

“That’s me,” Dad said. “And you are…?”

“Call me Andy,” the metal man said. “Could you show me to my patient?”

Dad led Andy to the laundry room. Jeremy followed behind him, and Mom joined him, both of them hovering by the door and watching. Dad waved a hand toward the washing machine. “It keeps making a terrible screeching sound no matter what we do. Is there anything you need?”

Andy inspected the washing machine. “You’ll need to plug her in so that I can talk to her,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” Dad said. He picked up the plug where it was resting on the back panel of the machine and leaned over until he could plug it in.

“It’s a she?” Mom asked. “Does she have a name?”

Andy turned. “Yes, Mrs. Frank. I’ll ask.” He started to root through his bag and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Then he started to make quiet clicking and whirring sounds.   Even though they hadn’t started a wash cycle, the washing machine started to screech. It paused and Andy began to click and whir some more.

After several minutes, Andy stopped writing. “Her name is Lauren. She has a sock stuck under her drum and it’s unbalancing the loads.” He clicked and tutted. Lauren screeched. Andy scribbled something and put his pen down. “I can fix it, but she’d like to be unplugged for the procedure.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dad said. He leaned over and pulled the plug and draped it back over the back panel.

Meanwhile, Andy pulled a long, thin tool out of his bag and bent it into a u-shape. Then his eyes grew brighter, like flashlights. “I’ll need you all to leave the room for a moment,” he said. “I’ll call you back in when I’m done.”

They all left and waited outside the door. In a few moments, Andy called them back in. Andy handed Jeremy his long-lost blue and white striped sock.   “I believe this is yours.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy said. “Um, Mr. Andy, what’s the dryer’s name? Does the toaster have a name? And the stove? And the microwave?”

“That’s a lot of questions, young human, and none of them are my patients,” Andy said. The dryer rumbled. Andy nodded. “He said his name is Harold. He hasn’t met any of the others.”

“Should I plug her back in then?” Dad asked.

“Yes, yes. That would be great,” Andy said. Once Dad plugged the machine in, Andy whirred and tutted. The washing machine hummed. Andy nodded. “She feels much better now. Call me if there are any more problems. I’ll send you my bill,” he said. And then he left.