Feathers

The UPS truck chugged into the drive. It backed up to the door, as usual; the driver locked the door, as usual. But when he stepped outside, Brandon saw not Roger, the regular driver, but a wiry young
man, short and slight. Th e driver spotted Brandon and gave a little wave.

The hawk swooped over Brandon's head, screaming, its wings close enough to stir a breeze in his hair. The bird hovered near the UPS driver, wings flapping. The driver looked up, his eyes wide open.

"She's protecting something. Watch out!" Brandon called.

The driver waved his arms gently and the hawk zipped back to the fence. When Brandon stepped closer, he saw the driver's intense, dark eyes and deep-toned skin.

Whoa. Who is this?

Brandon straightened his shoulders.

The young driver kept his gaze on the hawk and moved towards it. After a few steps through the tall grass, he bent down.

"What's going on?" Brandon asked. He kept one eye on the hawk. She re-settled on the fence post, fluffi ng her feathers, her sharp claws digging into the wood. On the ground, a young hawk floundered, emitting squeals of alarm. One wing flapped and the bird flailed through the grass as it tried to get away. The other wing was bloody, torn. The hawk got some lift with one wing flapping but it mostly scrabbled in the grass.

The young man wore the standard brown uniform, Ramon stenciled over one pocket. He squatted, gave Brandon a quick glance and focused on the bird once more. "He’s been hurt. Maybe he flew into the barbed wire. Probably didn't know any better."

"What can we do for him? I've seen foxes around here; he won't be safe even with Momma Bird around," Brandon said.

The young hawk wobbled through the grass, screeching, his injured wing dragging beside him. They hopped along with him, arms waving. To Brandon's surprise, the mother hawk didn't come at them. She cocked her head, seeming puzzled by the awkward humans.

Ramon took off his uniform shirt and threw it over the hawk. Th e hawk screeched and flapped its one good wing as it tried to fly away. Ramon grabbed his shirt, twisted it with the hawk in it and stood up.

"You have a box we can put him in? Something small and dark to quiet him down?" Ramon's voice was calm but urgent, his breath showing in the cool morning air. Ramon's nipples were black and hard, distracting. Brandon had to make himself think.