Death of a Songbird Read Online Free Page A

reason. Lark pushed herself up from the grass. “Let’s keep going.”
    After brushing off her rear end, Lark set off across the golf course, joined the paved trail encircling Elk Lake, then turned onto a rough, graveled path that snaked south toward the lake. A felled log lay crosswise on the gravel, guaranteeing foot traffic only; sentinels of cottonwoods, Colorado blue spruce, and ponderosa pine stood guard at the mouth of the trail. A large sign proclaimed they were embarking upon the Paris Mills Nature Trail.
    The nature trail—named after Esther Mills’ grandmother, once considered one of Elk Park’s leading ladies—crisscrossed a twenty-acre piece of land on the north side of the lake. Bordered on the east by water and on the west by the paved trail and golf course, the trail meandered along the edge of a small peninsula and another half-mile stretched along the lake’s edge.
    “Let’s set up on the point,” Lark suggested. “We’ll get a nice view from out there and lots of waterfowl to practice on.”
    Rachel nodded, then pushed ahead.
    For someone who’d never done much birdwatching, thought Lark, Rae had taken to the sport like a duck to water. She’d gone from being a novice with an attitude in June to being an aficionada by mid-August. Given a few more pointers, a few more scoping lessons, and a few more books to devour, she ought to graduate to the “I know enough to be dangerous” sector by mid-September.
    If she would even be around that long. Miriam was due back from her birding trip to the Middle East in a couple of weeks; Rachel planned to go back to New York after her return. Lark would be sorry to see her go.
    “How about setting up here?” Rachel asked, pointing to a flat area with a view of the water and the Warbler Café. From this vantage point, even without a scope, Lark could easily spot several species of duck paddling the lake.
    “Looks good.” She swung the equipment off her shoulder, dropping the pack at the foot of a large ponderosa pine. “Now, the first thing we have to do is set up and adjust the tripod.” Extending the tripod’s legs, she pointed to the liquid bubble. “Mine has a leveling device, so perfection becomes an option, if you’re into that. All I care about is close and comfortable. Eyepiece height is the most important thing.”
    Since they were both using her setup, Lark adjusted the height slightly higher than usual, then pointed out the scope’s features: the eighty-millimeter lens, the fifteen to forty-five-power zoom eyepiece. “I like the angled eyepiece, because I don’t have to crane my neck as much. Just look down into it.”
    “What’s this?” Rachel asked, pointing to a bright pink cap at the end of the scope.
    “The bottom of a large plastic yogurt container.” Lark pulled it off and stuffed the makeshift lens cap into her backpack, where it wouldn’t get dusty. Next she focused on a large mallard drake, then stepped aside to give Rachel a look. “Do you see how clearly he comes in? Now try zooming the eyepiece.”
    Rachel practiced focusing and zooming for a while, then Lark showed her how to pan by releasing the tripod lock and swiveling the scope.
    “Oh, look, there’s one with a moon on its face,” Rachel said. She fiddled with the eyepiece.
    “Crescent-shaped?”
    “Here, you look.”
    Lark ducked her head and peered through the eyepiece. The duck, brownish gray and mottled, had a black tail and a prominent white crescent behind its bill. “It’s called a blue-winged teal.”
    Rachel stretched to look again. “I don’t see any blue.”
    “Trust me, it’s there. The duck has a powder-blue wing patch. Sometimes it’s hard to see, unless the bird’s flying. Then you can’t miss it.”
    Lark kept a list of the ducks they identified: the mallard, the blue-winged teal, the ring-necked duck, and the common merganser. Then she challenged Rachel to try and get close-ups of the bird species in the trees.
    The afternoon