Summer Bird Stories

Family-Friendly Short Stories, Cartoons, and Illustrations

Everything is Bigger in Giantland

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“Mom, I’m home,” Jack said.

“So what did you find up there?” Jack’s mom asked.

“In Giantland?”

“It can’t really be called that.” Jack’s mom folded her arms.

Jack smiled. “Who cares?   It’s what I’m calling it. The giant lives in a huge house.”

“Of course he does. What’s inside?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t going to go inside to check. A giant lives there!” Jack laughed.

The door behind him opened a little wider. Jack’s mom looked down and screamed. She ran forward with a frying pan in hand. Jack snatched the thing up in his arms. “Stop, mom! It’s a ladybug. She can play catch and shake hands and fly. I’m pretty sure she’ll eat dog food. Can we keep her?”

Jack’s mom set the frying pan on the table beside her with a sigh.   “Jack, we couldn’t afford to keep a cow, and that was useful.”

“Why don’t you sell your famous applesauce? Or some apple butter or apple pies?” Jack asked, patting the giant ladybug on the head.

She sighed. “Jack, you always were a silly child. We don’t have any apples.”

“I brought some apples back with me,” Jack said. “The squirrels helped me bring them down.”

Jack’s mom sat down and put her head in her hands. “Giant squirrels, I suppose?”

“That’s right. They can communicate with hand signals for now, but I should probably teach them to talk too. I told them they could make a nest in the barn now that Bessie’s gone.” Jack smiled. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind helping around the house or fetching more apples.”

“Why do they want to move here? We have nothing here,” Jack’s mom said.

“The giant really likes squirrel soup.” Jack set the ladybug down. It flew around him in a loop and then out the door. “Would you like to see the apples?”

“Jack, won’t the giant notice the apples are gone and find the beanstalk and come after us?”

Jack patted her shoulder and held out a hand. When she took it he pulled her up out of her chair. “The squirrels say he sleeps in late.   As long as he doesn’t see us, we should be fine. He doesn’t count his apples, and he has lots.   Maybe we could get some of the wildflowers to sell at market too. They were amazing.”

He pushed the door completely open and she followed him out. The apples were each as big as their little barn.   Jack’s mom started feeling hopeful.   With the flowers to sell first, she could get the extra ingredients and supplies to jar and sell applesauce or make pies.

She tripped over something and looked down. “Jack, is that a golden plate?”

“Oh, yeah, the squirrels gave me some pocket change the giant dropped.   So, can I keep the ladybug? She won’t be any trouble. Watch.” He crouched in front of the ladybug and held out a hand. “Shake!”

The ladybug held out a leg and Jack shook it. Jack grinned. Jack’s mom sighed. “That’s fine Jack. Why didn’t you tell me about the gold first?”

“I really don’t know how we’d sell it without explaining where we got it,” Jack said.

Jack’s mom laughed. “Jack, everyone from miles around can see the beanstalk.”

“Yes, but if they don’t know about the gold, they won’t be trying to take the beanstalk from us. Big flowers that you have to climb for an hour to get are a lot less appealing than gold. Especially if you have to get through giant squirrels to get to the beanstalk.” Jack threw a stick and the ladybug flew after it.

“Jack…that was surprisingly clever. You’re right. We’ll have to find a way to sell the gold in smaller pieces and not very often…” Jack’s mom sat on a bucket and started to mutter to herself.

Jack grinned again as the ladybug flew back and dropped the stick at his feet. “Mom, I think I know what I’ll call her.”

Jack’s mom looked up. “What?”

“I’ll name her Spot,” he said.

Jack’s mom laughed. “I guess you’re still my silly boy after all.”

Museum Trip

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Mariah was so excited. Today they were going for a long ride in the car! Mom said they were going to a museum. She said it was a place for people to look at pictures. Mariah imagined a giant refrigerator. That could be interesting.

“It’s going to be a long drive Mariah. Here are some fruit snacks and I’ll play your favorite music, all right?” Mom said.

Mariah had finished the fruit snacks before they were out of the driveway.   She tossed the wrapper on the floor.   “More?”

Mom sighed. “Wait a bit, Mariah.”

“Pwease?” Mariah clasped her hands together and made a sad face.

“Fine, fine,” Mom said. She stopped and gave Mariah another packet of fruit snacks.

Mariah ate more slowly. She wasn’t really sure if she wanted them. She put them down next to her leg in the car seat and looked out the window.   There was a bird. “Biwd,” she said.

She saw the moon. Why was the moon out in the daytime? “Why moon?” she asked.

“Why are we going to the museum?” Mom said. “It’s a discount day and it’s good for us to learn new things. At half price.”

Mom made no sense sometimes. Mariah looked out the window and watched the moon. Mom turned on her music and Mariah was clapping in time to “hot cross buns.” This was fun.

By the time they arrived at the museum, Mariah was screaming to be let out.   This was so boring. She was going to die of boredom. This trip was an awful idea.

Mom finally stopped the car and unbuckled the car seat. Mariah slid out of the seat unhappily. Her head hurt. “Mariah,” Mom said. “You didn’t finish eating your fruit snacks and they melted all over your car seat and your outfit. Where are the wipes?”

Mariah endured having her leg scrubbed, but she was really ready to get out of the car. Mom finally decided she needed to change Mariah’s outfit, and then finally they were walking down a sidewalk with an interesting pattern of bricks. They went zig-zag, zig-zag like stairs or waves.   Mariah tried to turn her feet to follow the bricks.

“Stop spinning like that,” Mom said. “You’re going to fall over.” Mariah sighed and took Mom’s hand. They went inside a nice warm building full of people standing in a long line.

The carpet had a funny design of lines. Mariah wanted to walk along them and pretend they were paths. “Don’t wander off Mariah,” Mom said. She handed Mariah a book.

Mariah tried to sit and look at it, but the line kept inching forward, and she couldn’t sit for long before it was time to move. It was too hard to hold the book open and walk. She hit the book on her leg and sang “Eensy Weensy Spider” instead. She couldn’t remember all the words, but that didn’t really matter.

They finally got to the front of the line. Mom paid some money, and she and Mariah got stamps on their hands.   It was a blue star. Mariah rubbed on it to see if it would smear.   “Stop that,” Mom said. “Hold my hand.”

Mom lifted Mariah up to see some of the pictures. She’d point out a cat or a bird. Mariah would agree that there was a cat or a bird there, then they’d move on. There were things in glass cases they couldn’t touch. There were statues missing arms or legs or clothes or bodies. They just kept walking and walking and walking and looking.

At lunch, Mom held Mariah up so that she could drink out of the drinking fountain. The water was so cold and it went up and then down like a rainbow. Mariah put her hand in the water to see what was holding it up like that.   “Don’t play in the water,” Mom said.

“Why up?” Mariah asked. How did the water do that?

“I held you up so you could reach the water,” Mom said.

“No, water up,” Mariah said.

“No, no more drinks Mariah. Let’s go eat lunch.”

That sounded good. Mariah followed Mom to a park bench. They had cheese and crackers and grapes. A sad looking bird hopped up close. Mariah wanted to share her crackers with the little bird, but Mom said no.

Mariah tossed it one when Mom wasn’t looking. The little bird pecked at it. It looked happy. Mariah smiled. “Mariah,” Mom said. “I told you no. I guess you’re done eating. Let’s go back inside.”

Lots of walking later, Mariah was being buckled back into the car seat, despite her protests. “Come on, Mariah, we need to go home. Your yellow bear is waiting for you.”

Mariah stopped struggling. It would be nice to see Yellow Bear again and tell him about her day. “Beaw now,” she said.

“Not until we get home. Did you like the museum? What was your favorite part?”

Mariah thought about it. “Watew.   Biwd,” she said.

“I’m not sure which painting that was,” Mom said. “Was there a boat too?”

Mariah sighed. Then she yawned. Maybe it was time for a nap.   It had been a strange day and she was tired. And she never did see the big refrigerator.

 

When Pigs Glide

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Brian nervously approached the sporting goods store. He was going to meet his hang glider instructor here.   The shop owners assured him that Orville was the best and that he was well known for taking every safety precaution.

Brian hated to admit it even to himself, but he was just a little bit afraid of heights. However, it was a new year and the world was going to see a new Brian. It was time to confront his fears head on. Safely.

The bells on the door jangled as it opened. Brian held the door open for the family that was leaving, and then he took a deep breath. He walked in and looked around. Who could it be? Was Orville the tall bald man looking at camping gear? The teenager trying on tennis shoes?

He stepped up to the counter and asked, “Do you have a message for me from Orville? I’m supposed to meet him here.”

The sales clerk flipped through some papers by the register. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said.

Brian turned, not sure what to do next. In front of him, the racks of running clothes moved a little. The clothes were moved aside as someone very short passed by. Brian looked down.

It was a pig. A pig dressed in a sporty outfit, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head. The pig smiled. Brian blinked. “Are you…”   He paused.

“Orville?” The pig asked. “That’s right. You must be Brian. You’re right on time. Let’s go check out the safety equipment. I want to make sure that your helmet is a good fit.”

“But I thought pigs can’t fly,” Brian said without thinking. Orville winced. Brian felt his face prickle red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean, I don’t…I just…I’m sorry.”

Orville sighed. “It’s all right. You’re right, you know.   When you’re up in the air, you’ll feel like you’re flying, but a hang glider just glides. It doesn’t fly.” He turned.   “Let’s go look at those helmets.”

Brian was measured and fit for a helmet and they discussed various brands of knee and elbow pads. Orville described the harness they’d be using and how it worked. Brian took careful notes.

When Orville listed some websites and handed over some brochures, Brian took them gratefully. The more he knew about everything, the safer he felt. Orville had him fill out some paperwork and explained the different payment plans.

They exchanged phone numbers and scheduled when to meet again. This was all sounding too real too quickly for Brian.   Would he really be able to do this?

“Are you nervous?” Orville asked.

“Yes, I’m a little afraid of heights,” Brian admitted.

“A lot of people are,” Orville said. “We’ll start small on some training hills. It’s in the brochures.”

“Were you scared on your first glide?” Brian asked.

“No, but I’m not scared of heights either,” Orville said. “I’d always wanted to fly.”

“Then why aren’t you a pilot?” Brian asked. “Why can’t pigs fly?”

“I can’t pass all the medical requirements for a pilot license.”   Orville smiled a sad half smile.   “Pigs don’t see as well as people do, you know. My forward vision isn’t as good, and I don’t see all the colors that you do.”

“So you glide instead?”

Orville smiled a genuine smile. “It’s wonderful, you know. You feel so light and free. When you’re up in the air, nothing can touch you. You feel like somehow anything is possible. There’s nothing like it.”

“Wow.” Suddenly Brian felt less scared.   He couldn’t wait to go home and read through everything. “Thanks Orville,” he said.

“I’m happy to help,” Orville said. And with a wave of the trotter, he left.

Golden Tickets

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Mr. Gatto closed the book about the candy man with a sigh. He stretched and licked a paw and smoothed down his fur. It was nice that the candy man had found a family in the end.

Mr. Gatto understood the loneliness that comes from trying to stay in the shadows while running a multinational corporation.   It was hard to let anyone close. Especially if there was the added challenge of having to pull the strings so that none of the workers knew who they were really reporting to.

He sat at his laptop and started two-paw typing. He’d reviewed the camera footage and read the reports and interviews.   It was time to send out performance evaluations.

That evening, he thought over the story again. Sending out tickets to everyone certainly didn’t give the candy man much of a selection in the end. If he were to look for a family, he’d find a way to narrow down the pool.   Mr. Gatto started to make plans.

And so it was that the Good Choices Health Food Company, which made healthy packaged dinners for humans, announced a contest. People were asked to recommend someone they knew that did good deeds. A committee would go through the essays and pick four people to send on a nice vacation with their families.   The mysterious company president would pick a fifth himself.

Mr. Gatto stepped off the private plane and into the waiting car with the committee member in charge of greeting the contest winners. He was excited to meet Mrs. Simons, who had knit booties for preemies for decades. She sounded perfect.

He wandered through the reception. The other winners seemed nice enough, but just weren’t right.   They had cats or dogs already, or had a close family member allergic to cats. He approached Mrs. Simons and his heart felt like it dropped.

She was wonderful, perfect. But, she was very ill and didn’t know it yet. She wouldn’t last much longer. He sadly nuzzled her side. She patted his head and cooed over him. She offered him a taste of the lovely food he’d ordered for the reception. It tasted terrible. He left as soon as he could.

When she got her diagnosis, he anonymously paid her hospital bills. He sent flowers to her hospital room every week until she died.

The next year, he tried again. The committee picked another round of nice people. Mr. Gatto picked a college professor who taught free English classes in his spare time. Perhaps he understood loneliness too? Mr. Gatto was hopeful.

He entered the reception feeling even more nervous than last time. He saw the professor and headed straight for him.   As he approached, the professor backed up, sneezing. Mr. Gatto retreated to the far corner of the room. This had been a terrible idea.

Just then, little Maisie Pendwick who read to children in the hospital every other week for years, rounded the table filled with silverware and stopped.   “Mom, look it’s a cat,” she said.

She crouched down and Mr. Gatto cautiously sniffed her hand. She smelled healthy. She pet him. He suddenly felt warm all over from the tip of his nose to the ends of his toes.   This could be it.

“Mom, he’s wonderful. Can we keep him?” Maisie looked up at her parents.   They crouched down and let Mr. Gatto sniff them before petting him. Healthy, no other pets at home. Mr. Gatto looked up at them.

“I’d love to, but he looks well cared for. I think he belongs to someone,” Mr. Pendwick said.

“He is a very beautiful cat,” Mrs. Pendwick said. “And so friendly.”

They pet him for a while, and then left to sit down when the awards ceremony began. Mr. Gatto slipped out of the room. He had things to arrange.

When the Pendwicks came home from vacation, Mr. Gatto was waiting on their front porch, feeling terribly nervous. They welcomed him into their family at once, even though they weren’t ever sure how he found them. “I guess it was meant to be,” Maisie said.

He had a family. It was everything he’d hoped it would be. It was awkward at first to disappear into the underground office he’d built while the Pendwicks were away, but they got used to him being gone for hours everyday, so neither his business or family life suffered.

He continued the contest annually, but never went to the awards reception again.   He hoped the candy man was just as happy with the family he found.

Charlie’s Room: Toy Cat

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Isaac picked up Charlie’s soft toy cat with a smile. When Great-Aunt Bethyl visited Charlie in the hospital after he was born, she brought the toy as a gift. She handed it to him and he’d snuggled into it and loved it from that moment on.

It was gray with little white paws, so Charlie named it Socks. He took Socks with him wherever he went. He ended up leaving him in odd places. At bedtime they had to hunt for Socks or Charlie couldn’t sleep. They would find him in a block tower or under the couch or in the refrigerator or some other strange place.

“Charlie, if you put Socks on your bed when you’re done playing, he’d be easier to find,” Isaac said once when Charlie was little.

“I do, but then you hide him, Daddy,” Charlie replied.

Isaac didn’t mind playing the find-Socks game, but he certainly wasn’t the one hiding the toy. Well, today he’d found him early. He picked up his pen that had also been eaten by the couch and replaced the couch cushion.

The doorbell rang. Isaac answered the door. It was his Aunt Doris. He managed to smile. “Aunt Doris, how lovely to see you. Please come in.”

She handed him a heavy suitcase and pushed past him. “I’ve come to stay for a week. I’ll stay in Charlie’s room.” She sat on the couch and looked around with a frown.

“Charlie just got a loft bed, Aunt Doris. I could pay for a hotel room for you,” Isaac said.

“Nonsense, I’ll just sleep in your room,” Aunt Doris said. “You can sleep in sleeping bags in Charlie’s room.”

“Well, um…”

Aunt Doris laughed. “I’m just kidding. Go buy me an air mattress.   It’s cheaper than a hotel room.”

“I don’t mind, Aunt Doris. That way Charlie won’t wake you up early like last visit,” Isaac said.

“I hope he’s old enough to know better. He wasn’t well behaved last time. Did you get the parenting books I sent you?” Aunt Doris folded her arms and leaned forward.

“Yes, thank you, Aunt Doris,” Isaac said. “It was kind of you.”

“Yes, well, I could see you needed lots of help,” Aunt Doris said. And then she jumped a little. “Ouch! What was that?” She pulled Socks out from under her. “This toy poked me.   It’s obviously unsafe. Go throw it away right now. Then you can go buy me an air mattress. Don’t worry about me; I brought a book.”

Aunt Doris handed Socks to Isaac and pulled a book out of her purse and started reading. Isaac looked at Socks and squeezed the toy a bit, but he didn’t feel anything sharp.   He hid the toy on top of the refrigerator and left to buy the air mattress.

While he was gone, he called to warn Marianne.   She wasn’t pleased. “She rearranged all the kitchen cupboards last time she came over.   And she kept correcting Charlie for everything he did. She even said he was breathing too loud.”

“I think she’s lonely and just wants to help,” Isaac said. “I tried to get her to stay at a hotel.”

“Maybe she won’t stay long,” Marianne said. “We’ll be back in an hour or so. I’ll tell Charlie he can have extra time on the swings. There’s no reason to hurry back.”

Isaac returned with the air mattress and managed to inflate it.   He’d bought sheets to fit and found an extra pillow and quilt in the closet. He went back into the living room. “What would you like for dinner, Aunt Doris?” He asked.

“Nothing with salt. Or sugar.   Or dairy. Or white flour,” Aunt Doris said.

“Fish and rice and broccoli?” Isaac asked.

“Brown rice,” Aunt Doris said.

“It’s a deal,” Isaac said. Aunt Doris went back to her book.

Fortunately, Charlie was happy to camp in their room on the floor. Isaac managed to sneak Socks from the kitchen and hand him off to Charlie without Aunt Doris noticing. Everyone settled in and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, Isaac woke up to a pounding noise. Someone was knocking loudly on the bedroom door.   Somehow Marianne and Charlie slept through it. Isaac opened the door.   “Aunt Doris? Are you okay?”

Aunt Doris was glaring at him. “Of course I’m not. That terrible air mattress deflated. You must have done a bad job inflating it. I’ll watch this time and make sure you do it right.”

Isaac re-inflated the air mattress and Aunt Doris found his work acceptable. They went back to sleep.   In the morning, Isaac heard noises in the kitchen. He went out to find Aunt Doris’s suitcase in the hallway. Aunt Doris was in the kitchen cooking herself breakfast.

“I’m leaving after I eat, Isaac. I am so disappointed in you,” she said.

“What happened?” Isaac asked.

“The air mattress deflated again. I’m fairly certain this is a plot to give me a bad back and force me into a retirement home. I won’t stand for it. Take my suitcase out to my car now,” Aunt Doris said.

She was gone in less than an hour. Isaac went to Charlie’s room to check on the mattress. It was nearly flat.   He pulled off the sheets. The top looked fine. He flipped it over. Socks was on the floor under the far corner. How had Socks ended up there?

Isaac found two little clusters of five pinholes in the far corner of the mattress. He picked up socks and checked his paws. No hidden claws. “Socks, did you do that?”   Socks didn’t answer.

Marianne came in. “Where’s Aunt Doris?”

“She left. She was upset the mattress kept deflating,” Isaac said.

Marianne leaned over his shoulder and looked at the little holes in the plastic. “It must have been faulty, you should return it.”

Isaac looked at Socks again. “Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. I’ll need to write Aunt Doris an apology again.”

“Well, at least she probably won’t visit for another year,” Marianne said.

“I guess we could visit her?” Isaac said.

“We’ll discuss it,” Marianne said.

Grandfather and George: The Pebble

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George rushed over to his grandfather’s house after school. “Grandfather, look at this,” he said as soon as he’d closed the door.

“Take your coat off and come in to the living room,” Grandfather said.

George hung up his coat and hurried in. He held out his hand. On his palm there was a tiny, glowing, silver pebble. “On my way to school, a crow landed in front of me and dropped this on the sidewalk. What is it?”

Grandfather held out his hand. George tipped his palm and watched the pebble roll down onto grandfather’s palm. Grandfather held it in the light from the window and the pebble dimmed. He blocked the sunlight with his other hand, and it glowed softly.

“What is it?” George asked again.

“I think it’s a star,” Grandfather said. “It’s come loose.”

“I thought stars were made of plasma or burning gasses or something,” George said. “We learned about it in science.”

“Of course not,” Grandfather said. “The moon isn’t made of cheese and the earth isn’t flat either.”

“I know that,” George said.

“Perhaps, but people always believe such crazy things and call it science. The science changes, but the new ideas are still crazy. Science is like that,” Grandfather said.

“I thought science was all about proving things,” George said.

“Yes, yes, but they don’t realize that they’re leaving things out, so they keep getting these weird ideas,” Grandfather said.

George frowned. “But, if that’s a star, why did the crow bring it to me?”

“He probably wanted you to put it back.” Grandfather smiled. “You should do that. The night sky just wouldn’t be the same without all its stars.”

“How?” George asked. “And why did the crow choose me?”

“Toss it in the air just after sunset. It will find its place,” Grandfather said. “Just make sure you toss it outside.” He handed the pebble back to George. “I think the crow picked you because it trusted you to help.   You’re a good boy, George.”

George held the pebble tightly in his fist. He opened his hand a little and peeked at the star. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“Of course you will,” Grandfather said. “Would you like a snack?”

That evening, George sat on his bed and watched the sun set. It was beautiful. The sky looked like it was painted with ribbons of color. The colors deepened and darkened.

George opened his window. A chilly breeze blew in. The air felt sharp on his warm face. He held out the pebble. It glowed brightly. He tossed it up and away into the air.

It went up in an arc and paused. Just when George thought it would fall, it started to rise, slowly at first and then faster and faster. It gleamed brightly for a moment, and then George could barely see it.   It had found its place in the sky.

The next day, George went to his Grandfather’s house after school again.   He hung up his coat and found his grandfather in the kitchen, putting together some strange device that looked like a lantern with arms and legs.

“What’s that?” George asked.

“A phoenix house. I think I saw one eyeing the tree out back. It’ll need a safe place to nest, poor thing. It’s certainly the wrong weather for rebirth. I’ll have to add a little heater,” Grandfather said.

“But phoenixes aren’t real,” George said. “I think.”

“Nonsense, of course they are,” Grandfather said. “So, what happened with your star?”

“I put it back, just like you said.” George reached into his pocket and opened his hand to reveal three more glowing silver pebbles. “This morning, on my way to school some crows swooped down and dropped these in front of me.”

“That’s great. You must have done a good job,” Grandfather said.

“Is this going to happen every morning?” George asked.

“Perhaps.” Grandfather said. “Stars fall more often at some times and less often at others. Some nights there are hundreds of falling stars.”

“Hundreds?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Grandfather said. “I’m sure it will be fine. Do you want a snack?”

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