Chapter three. Good God, you'd think they'd never seen a goddamned bird before, Pat muttered under her breath

" Good God, you'd think they'd never seen a goddamned bird before, " Pat muttered under her breath. She stood with hands on her hips, surveying the crowd that lined the pond. Her pond. Her Curlews. She shook her head, cursing Mrs. Davenport. The old woman had no doubt been following her.

She tossed one of her cameras on the front seat in disgust then childishly kicked at her back tire. Of all the luck. She accidentally stumbles upon a nest of Long-billed Curlews, and because she doesn't know what the hell they are, she has to ask Mrs. Davenport.

" You've got a bird book. Why don't you learn to use it? "

Instead, she'd sought out the old woman. Big mistake.

" Oh, Ms. Ryan! There you are! Come have a look! We haven't spotted the nest yet."

Pat turned, a biting retort on her lips as Mrs. Davenport walked over, dressed in all her birdwatching garb. Pat pulled the bill of her cap lower and pierced Mrs. Davenport with ice blue eyes.

" Nice crowd. Must have hit the...hotline, huh? " she got out through clinched teeth.

" Oh, yes. This is big news, " the old woman stated importantly. " I'm trying to get the local paper out for a picture."

" Great. Thanks a lot."

" Well, Ms. Ryan, I assure you, in my circle, this is very good news. Why, the Long-billed Curlew hasn't nested in these parts in years. Why, my dear departed Elbert was still in his prime the last time we saw them, and that was before Carla hit."

" Carla? "

" The hurricane, dear. Surely, you remember Carla? "

Pat Ryan drew her eyebrows together and tried another scowl on old Mrs. Davenport.

" Look, do you really think it's wise to have all these people...gaping at this nest? I mean, wouldn't it be tragic if the birds abandoned their nest and the poor babies were left to starve and die? All because you put it out on the hotline? "

Old Mrs. Davenport brought one hand to her chest, eyes wide.

" Do you think they're too close? I mean, we haven't even seen the nest yet and the parents haven't flown."

" Oh, sure. They're just sticking around, trying to protect the young, but tonight, maybe they'll think, hey, what are we going to do when twice this many people show up? How are we going to look for food and protect them at the same time? Maybe we should just abandon the nest and head up north, like we usually do and start over. What then? "

" Oh, well I would feel horrible, of course. But these are birders. They wouldn't approach the nest."

Pat rolled her eyes. Birders.

" Look, I think you should just ask everyone to leave. I mean, is it worth it? "

But Mrs. Davenport held her ground.

" I see you have your cameras. Just like us. What's the difference? "

" I'm a professional. I know how to do this, " Pat said.

" Just like you knew that they were Curlews, right? "

Pat rolled her eyes again, just in time to see a brand new Cadillac skid to a halt next to her Jeep.

" Oh, I see your Aunt Rachel heard the news, too."

Pat watched her elderly Aunt jump from her car, binoculars swinging from around her neck.

" Where are they? " she called to Mrs. Davenport.

" Wait, " Pat said. " Not you, too. This is a protected area, " she said lamely.

" This is public land, " Mrs. Davenport corrected.

" Why, Pat, I didn't expect to see you here. Did you hear the news on the hotline? " her aunt asked.

" No. I found the goddamn nest. I should be the only damn person out here, " she said, her voice rising with each word.

" Oh, pooh, you hate birds, " her aunt said. " Come along, darling, show me the nest."

Aunt Rachel linked arms with Pat and drew her after Mrs. Davenport as they headed toward the pond.

Pat took a deep breath, clutching her camera to her chest as she hurried along beside her aunt, nearly choking on the perfume that hovered around her.

" You know, I'm shooting for a magazine. Maybe you could use your influence and get everyone out of here, " Pat whispered to her aunt. " What do you say? "

" They're Curlews, Pat. Nesting. With young. We all want to see."

" And since when have you gotten into this? "

" Isn't it exciting, Pat? "

Pat rolled her eyes again. Her own aunt was decked out, head to toe, in birdwatching gear.

" Nice hat, " she murmured.

" I got it at that cute little Birds and More shop on Austin Street."

" Looks great on you."

Aunt Rachel was really her only family. The rest had deserted her years ago. If truth be told, they had deserted Aunt Rachel as well. The eccentric old woman was a bit too much for her stuffy, Catholic family. Oh, the occasional Christmas card was exchanged and sometimes a phone call, but that was about it. Pat assumed they did that so they wouldn't be left out of the will.

" Come by the house for lunch, Pat, " her aunt said. " I've some things I want to discuss with you. We haven't visited in ages."

Pat stood at the edge of the crowd, watching as the birders spied across the small pond with their binoculars, looking for the elusive nest. Then she grinned. Of course. They all knew there was a nest here. Somewhere. But only she knew exactly where it was. She could either wait them out or sneak around the back side of the pond. She doubted anyone in this crowd would be inclined to follow her through the mud and tall grass.

Oh, let them fumble around a bit. The sun was already too high anyway for a decent shot. She walked back to her Jeep, mentally planning another trip tomorrow morning, well before dawn. That way, maybe she could still get a few good shots before the crowd showed up.

" Pat? Wait, " her aunt called. " We don't see them. Did you? "

" No. They probably hate crowds."

" Where are you going? "

" To your place."

Her aunt nodded. " I'll be along shortly."