“Momma, stop!”

            Momma hit the brakes so hard, if I hadn’t had my seatbelt on, I would have slammed into the dashboard of the car.

            She did the classic outstretched protective mom arm across my chest. Her eyes went wide. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened?”

            I turned in my seat to point towards the curb behind us. “It’s a bird.”

            “A what?”

            “A bird, there on the curb. I think it’s a hawk.”

            “What in the world are you talking about?” The panic in her voice switched to irritation.

            We were on our way to Grandma’s house to deliver presents on Christmas day. Lucky for us not only was it a holiday, but a yucky one at that, so there were no cars on the street. Would not have been a good start to the holiday if we’d been rear-ended by Momma’s sudden stop. She put the emergency blinkers on.

            I could still see the bird hunched over on the curb looking pitiful in the drizzling rain.       “Look Momma.”

            “What makes you think it’s a hawk?”

            “Remember that guy at the Renaissance Festival? The one who did the bird show? He had a hawk looked just like this one.”

            Momma looked in the rearview mirror. “I don’t see anything.”

            “It hasn’t flown off.” I poked at the window. “It’s gotta be hurt or something.”

            “I’m sure it’s fine.”

            “We can’t just leave it there. It might get run over.”

           I’m ten years old and should be over the whole crying like a baby thing, but I felt the tears welling up.

             Momma must have seen them and gave in. “Let me pull around so I can get a look at this bird of yours.”

            Momma checked her mirrors before pulling forward, then u-turned at the gap in the median. I unhooked my seatbelt and was up on my knees trying to keep an eye on the bird.

            “Kristi, you need to sit down and put your seatbelt on, or we aren’t going to do this.”

            “Ah, man.”

            “Now, young lady.”

            I plopped down into my seat and fastened my seatbelt even though I didn’t see the good it’d do. We couldn’t have been moving two miles an hour.

            I pointed, my hand across Momma’s face. “There see!”

            “Well, I’ll be.” The car coasted forward. “I think you’re right.”

            Momma made another u-turn and inched slowly up to the hawk. It hadn’t moved.

            As soon as Momma pulled to the curb and put the car in park, I grabbed the door handle, but Momma stopped me.

            “Hold on, young lady.” She studied the bird for a moment. The clicking of the emergency blinkers and the flashing of the little green arrows on the dash kept time with my heartbeat. “This may be a bird, but it’s also a wild animal with very sharp talons and beak.”

            “We can’t just leave it.”

            Momma tapped her front teeth with her finger. A habit she has when she’s thinking. The wipers swept back and forth on intermittent, but the drizzle changed to rain making it harder to see out the windshield.

            Momma wiggled out of her coat. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

            I shifted around in my seat so I could see Momma and the hawk.

            “We’ll get out of the car real slow. If it flies off than we know it’s fine. If it doesn’t, I’ll try to wrap my coat around it. I want you to stay behind me. Okay?”

            I nodded.

            “I want to hear you say it.”

            “I promise to stay behind you.”

            Momma took a deep breath. “Ready?”

            “Ready.”

            Just as Momma was about to open her door, a car drove by and splattered the car with water. The hawk also got hit with the spray but didn’t move.

            We got out of the car. I waited for Momma to come around to my side. We stepped slowly towards the hawk. Its head swiveled around to look at us.

            Rain slapped hard against the hood of my raincoat as I waited on Momma to make her move. She inched her way behind the hawk. Its head followed our movement. Suddenly, the wings shot out and the bird gave itself a good shake but didn’t fly away. It folded its wings and continued to stand there.

            Momma said, “I want you to go around in front of the hawk. Try to keep its attention, so it isn’t watching me. But stay far enough back in case it decides to take off.”

            “Okay.”

            I slowly made my way around. Momma’s idea worked because the bird’s head turned to follow me and when it did Momma scooped it up in her coat. We both expected the hawk to put up a fight, but it didn’t.

            Momma said, “Get in the car, quick. I’m going to set it on your lap. Will you be okay with that?’

            Before she finished her question, I was back in the car with my seatbelt on, and ready to do my part. Momma pulled the collar of the coat over the hawk’s face, then wrapped the sleeves around the bird, snug enough to keep it from struggling and hurting itself, but not too tight in case the bird might be injured.

            Momma closed my door and ran around to her side. The rain came down hard. Momma jumped inside, wiped water from her face, and asked, “You okay?”

            “I think so.”

            We sat there for several moments looking at our new passenger.

            I asked, “What are we supposed to do now?”

            “Good question.”

            Momma grabbed her purse from the back seat and retrieved her cell phone.

            “Who are you calling?

            Without answering me, she said into the phone, “Hey, Mom. We’ve got a problem.”

            I heard Grandma say, “Are you okay? I was expecting you fifteen minutes ago.” She always talks loud enough to be heard without putting her on speaker.

            Momma said, “Well, we kind of picked up a hitchhiker.”

            “What!? Are you crazy? You don’t go picking up strange people on the street!”

            “Mom, calm down. It’s not that kind of hitchhiker.”

            Momma gave Grandma a quick run-down about the bird.

            “A real hawk? Just let you pick him up?”

            “Yes, Mom.”

            There was a moment of silence before Grandma asked, “You’re not planning on bringing it here?”

            “No Mom, but I need you to check the internet for a bird rescue or bird sanctuary. One that’s open, so we can drive straight over.”

            Grandma asked, “You know this is Christmas?”

            “Yes, Mom. Please hurry.”

            I felt the hawk move and looked down to see its head peeking out from under the collar of the coat.

            Momma put her hand to my cheek. “We can put the bird back if you’re afraid.”

            Something in the way the hawk stared up at me made me think that it knew I was trying to help.

            I shook my head. “I’m good.”

            It took Grandma several minutes to find a rescue that would take an injured bird on Christmas day.           

             Grandma said, “It’s called Hurt and Rescued Bird Sanctuary. It’s up in Cave Creek.”

            Cave Creek is a town north of Phoenix where we live.

            Momma said, “We don’t have much of a choice.”

            I added, “He could die, Grandma.”

            “Well, okay. But you be careful. Those steep roads can get dangerous when they’re wet.”

            Grandma gave Momma the address, which Momma put into the GPS. She started the car. “You ready?”

            I looked down at the hawk who was still staring up at me. “Let’s go.”

            Momma drove along, occasionally glancing over at the bundle. I held onto the hawk to keep it from rolling off my lap. It moved its head trying to look around. As we got closer to Cave Creek, the hawk wiggled more and more. Suddenly, I felt something poke my leg. It didn’t hurt, but it made me jump.

            Momma noticed and asked, “You okay?”

            “I am but it’s getting restless.”

            We got off the main street through Cave Creek and followed the GPS instructions up a steep and narrow road. The rain stopped, and the sun tried to come out. Momma turned off the wipers.

            She grumbled, “I hope this GPS knows where it’s going.”

            As we inched around a curve, I saw a faded, wooden sign on a metal post that tilted to one side. Hurt and Rescued. “There!” I was relieved because whatever was poking my leg started to hurt. It had to be one of the hawk’s talons. I didn’t tell Momma because she might have gotten upset and put the bird out before we made it to the sanctuary.

            Momma leaned over the steering wheel and peered through the windshield. “This could get interesting.”

            The Hurt and Rescued Bird Sanctuary was a one-story house that tilted the same as the sign. It might have been blue with white trim once a long time ago. A tarp covered part of the roof. A couple of smaller buildings sat off to one side of the house with more tarps strung between them. A fence surrounded the back part of the property.

            Momma punched in the phone number that Grandma had given her. A man’s voice answered. Momma put the phone on speaker.

            “Hi. My name’s Monique. My mother called you earlier about a hawk. I’m parked out front. I think I’m at the right place.”

            A man appeared at the back gate with a phone to his ear. “I see you. Come on back.”

            “The thing is, the hawk is on my daughter’s lap and I’m afraid to move it. It might get a little crazy in this confined space.”

             “Your daughter has a hawk just sitting on her lap?” I heard the amazement in his voice.

            “Not exactly. It’s wrapped up in my coat, but it’s head is poking out.”

            “Stay right there. I’m on my way.”

            The man at the gate slipped the phone into his pants pocket, opened the latch on the gate and walked towards us.

            Momma said, “I want you to stay close to me.”

            I heard the concern in her voice. The man coming towards our car looked like someone who’d lived in the woods for too long. He had a grey scraggly beard that went down to the middle of his chest and hair pulled back in a ponytail that hung over his shoulder. He had blue eyes the color of the tile in our swimming pool and a nose that might have been in a few fights. He wore a black biker jacket over blue overalls.

            The hawk turned its head from side to side. It looked a little panicky. I wished the man would walk faster. He came around to my side of the car and tried the door, but it was locked. Momma hit the unlock button and the man slowly opened the door. He smiled at me, then his eyes lit up at the sight of the hawk.

            “You got yourself quite a catch.” He scooped up the hawk with two huge hands. One hand was missing the tip of its middle finger. “You ladies can follow me.”

            We got out of the car and followed the man through the back gate. The tarps overhead blocked out what little sun there was. I had to stop for a moment to let my eyes adjust. Suddenly, lights snapped on.

            The man said, “Now we can see.” He stood next to a pole with a light switch and strings of lights going in different directions, between rows of cages.

            I asked, “Why are all the cages covered?”

            “The birds are calmer when the place is dark.”

            I watched as he partially unwrapped the hawk exposing his talons. The man wove his fingers around the hawk’s legs.

            He looked to Momma. “I’m going to lift him up. Catch hold of the coat, so it doesn’t fall in the mud.”

            Momma stepped forward and put her hand under the bundle of bird and coat. The man lifted the bird by its legs and as soon as the coat was out of the way, cradled the hawk in his other arm.

            He spoke to the hawk like he might soothe a baby. “Aren’t you a lucky fellow, finding yourself a lovely pair of angels.” He smiled over at me. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”

            Momma said, “I’m Monique and this is my daughter, Kristi. She’s the one who spotted the hawk. It was just standing on the side of the road.”

            I said, “He didn’t even try to fly away.”

            “Well, let’s take a look at the old boy and see what might be the problem.”

            I asked, “So, it’s a boy? How can you tell?”

            “Not positive, but male hawks are smaller than the females. This fellow isn’t particularly large, so it’s a good bet he’s a boy.”

            We followed Charlie to a table. Still holding on to the hawk’s legs he laid it on the table. With his other hand, he reached into an old coffee can and pulled out a tiny hood. Charlie slipped the hood over the hawk’s head.

            “There you go. Now you can’t see anything that might frighten you.” Charlie looked over at us. “You ladies can come closer. He won’t hurt you.”

            Momma and I inched up to the table.

            Charlie pointed out the tail feathers. “He’s a red-tail hawk. Fairly common in these parts. That tail spreads out like a big fan when he’s flying. Beautiful thing to see.”

            Charlie gently felt the hawk’s legs, then his body, and finally stretched out each wing and felt along the tops. “I think I’ve found the problem.” He pulled a crate from under the table. “Step up here, so you can feel this.”

            I climbed up on the crate. Charlie touched a spot on the hawk’s wing. “Feel this little knot?” I did. “Come on over here, Mom. You can feel this, too.”

            Momma stepped closer. As she was about to touch the wing, the hawk’s head turned as if he could see her. Momma pulled her hand back.

            “You’re okay. He’s just listening.”

            Momma touched the spot. “What is that?”

            “My guess is, this old boy broke that bone, but it didn’t heal properly. That knot you felt is a calcium deposit. Mother nature’s way of making the place where the bone broke a little stronger. Problem is a bird’s wing is created to be aerodynamic.” Charlie asked me, “Do you know what that means?”

            “We learned about how birds fly, in science class last year. It has to do with how they use the air to help them fly.”

            “Very good. With that little bit of extra calcium, he might have some trouble spreading his wings out as far as they need to go. With all the rain we had today, he got good and wet. The extra weight of the water may have made it harder for him to lift off the ground.”

            Momma asked, “So, what happens now?”

            Charlie scratched at his beard. “I’ll keep him here a few days. Let him dry out. Make sure he eats. If he doesn’t perk up, I have a veterinarian friend who can check him out. But I think he’ll be good to go on his way in a few days.”

            I asked, “But will he be okay with his wing like that?”

            Charlie ran a hand down the hawk’s back. “Hard to say. He survived long enough for that wing to heal. He should be fine, but mother nature will have to decide that.”

            “Can’t you keep him here?”

            “Hawks don’t do well in captivity. They get anxious being locked up. He’ll do better taking his chances out there.” Charlie pointed upward. “But I’ll say this, your hawk might do better if he had a name.”

            “A name?”

            “Sure, why not? Make him think he’s special.”

            I looked at Momma. She shrugged. “You found him.”

            I thought for a minute. “I want him to have a special name.”

            Charlie suggested, “This is Christmas. Maybe something Christmasy.”

            I tried a couple of names. “Santa? No. The other hawks might laugh at that. Jesus? Makes me think of baby Jesus. He’s not a baby hawk.” Suddenly, it came to me. “Noel!”

            Momma and Charlie smiled and nodded their heads in agreement.

            Charlie said, “Noel it is.” He stroked the hawk’s head with his thumb. “Well, Noel. Looks like you got yourself a new home and a new name.” Charlie placed his large hands around Noel and gently lifted him. Noel didn’t struggle. “If you ladies will excuse me. I’m going to take our friend into the house. I’ll keep him isolated from the others, just to make sure he doesn’t have any nasty bugs that might make the other birds sick. Feel free to look around.”

            Charlie headed into the house, talking softly to Noel the whole time.

            Momma patted my back. “You did a good thing today.”

            My chest swelled up. I felt like crying because I had to leave Noel, but at the same time I was happy that he would be taken care of. I grinned up at Momma. “This is the best Christmas ever.”

            “Yes, it is.” Momma kissed the top of my head. “You want to take a look around before we go?”

            “Yeah!” I was about to jump off the crate when I realized I was being watched by two huge yellow eyes. I gasped. “Momma, it’s an owl.”

            “It sure is. It’s a big one.”

            I jumped off the crate, moved it over to the other table, and climbed back on to get a better look. The owl blinked.

            I leaned my head closer to the cage and hooted, “Who, who.” The owl just stared.

            Charlie returned and came up alongside me.

            I asked, “What kind of owl is it?”

            “That’s Aristotle. He’s a great horned owl. The biggest kind of owl in Arizona.”

            I noticed something at the bottom of his cage. “Ugh. Is that a dead mouse?”

            Charlie looked, then said, “Ari, you didn’t eat your breakfast.” To me, Charlie said, “Aristotle gets picky about his food. He prefers live mice. But sometimes I put a live one in the cage and the poor little critter drops dead of fright.”

            Charlie grinned so I wasn’t sure if he was joking.

            Momma’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her back pocket. “It’s your grandma. I’m sure she’s wondering what happened to us.” To Charlie she said, “Excuse me a minute.” She headed out of the enclosure. “Hi, Mom.”

            I asked Charlie, “What happened to Aristotle?”

            “Best I can tell, someone took a shot at him with a BB gun. Damaged his right wing bad enough that he can’t fly. He’s been here a few months.” Charlie pointed to another cage. “You ever seen a falcon up close?”

            Charlie showed me a prairie falcon, a kestrel, and two ravens called Heckle and Jeckle.     Momma returned. “Kristi, we need to go. Tell Charlie thank you.”

            I looked up at the grizzly man. “Thank you, Mr. Charlie.”

            He smiled and pulled at his beard. He reminded me of Santa Claus. Well maybe if Santa Claus rode a motorcycle instead of a sleigh.

            “You have a great Christmas.”

            Momma put her hand out to him. I saw that there was money in it. “This is not enough to thank you for what you do.”

            He pocketed the money. “Thank you. Every little bit helps.”

            “And thanks for letting us disturb your Christmas.”

            I agreed. “Yeah. I would have hated it if we had to put him back out in the rain.”

            I waved goodbye as we drove away not expecting to see Charlie or Noel again.

            A week later, Momma came home from work with great news. She had included her business card with the money she handed to Charlie. He called to let her know Noel would be set free the next morning.

            Momma and I drove back to Hurt and Rescued Bird Sanctuary. The day was completely opposite from the first time we were there. It had warmed up, with not a cloud in the sky. Charlie met us outside the gate with Noel in a cage.

            He grinned. “Welcome back ladies.”

            Noel had his little hood on. His head turned this way and that. We followed Charlie around to the back of the enclosure and hiked up a trail for several minutes before Charlie stopped. He got down on one knee and placed the cage on the ground. Then he opened the top.

            “You want to tell Noel goodbye?”

            I nodded and moved closer.

            Charlie lifted Noel out of the cage. “Use your finger and give him a little stroke on his chest.”

            I hesitated.

            “Go ahead.”

            Noel’s feathers felt smooth. His head tilted like he was trying to figure out what was going on.

            Charlie said, “Do me a favor and take his hood off. Do it slowly.”

            I slid off the tiny hood. Noel blinked.

            Momma said, “I bet he’s happy to see again.”

            I noticed he had a little silver band around one leg that hadn’t been there before.

            I asked, “What’s that?”

            “It’s a way for the wildlife conservationists to keep track of him. If a bird watcher spots him, they can report his location and how he’s doing. Also helps to know how many hawks like him are out there.”

            Charlie stood up. “You ready?”

            I nodded.

            “On the count of three.”

            Charlie and I counted together. “One, two, three.”

            Charlie tossed Noel into the air. Both Momma and I cheered as Noel made a beeline for the blue sky flapping his wings. Then he glided making big circles each getting higher and higher.

            I pointed. “Look! I can see his red tail feathers!”

            I’d never paid attention to how beautiful it is to watch a bird fly. Eventually, Noel coasted away on the wind, a tiny dot on the sky. I cried. Momma also wiped at a tear. We waved a final goodbye to Noel before heading home.