A Bad Flight
Earlier, Branna Bluebird had just finished delivering a message to
the chipmunks. That would be the last delivery of the day because soon
it would be too windy to fly. To return home, she had two choices. She
could fly directly across the pond or follow the shoreline. She chose
the direct route because it was quicker. As she took off from the
chipmunks’ dock, the wind blew a small branch off a nearby tree, and
it hit her in midair. She was knocked back onto the dock and was a bit
shaken but apparently uninjured. Her left wing did hurt a little. She
flexed it a few times and then took off again. Branna was not a
bluebird who changed her plans because of minor obstacles.
The flight across the pond usually took only a minute. However, as
soon as she was in the air, the wind buffeted her, and it was
difficult to remain stable. Immediately, her left wing began to hurt.
With each flap, the pain became worse, and she began to lose altitude.
She wasn’t going to make it to the north shore! Also, for all
practical purposes, she couldn’t swim. She had to land on something.
In order to stay in the air as long as possible, she began a circular,
bumpy glide. Branna searched the choppy water for anything floating as
she dropped lower and lower.
Suddenly, she spotted a small board on the water and immediately
adjusted her path to land on it. The wind almost blew her off course
in the final seconds, but she was able to grab an edge and pull
herself onto the board. The board was well-weathered and appeared to
be a piece of someone’s dock. She dug her tiny claws into it and hung
on as it bounced up and down on the water.
Branna was not in a good situation. She couldn’t fly or swim. She was
a small bird on a small bouncing board in the middle of a big pond.
The wind was blowing, and the water was choppy. She was wet, cold, and
tired. Her wing hurt. Everything was getting worse.
As she looked around, she judged that she was about one-quarter mile
from the north shore. The wind was pushing the board in that
direction. Under normal conditions, that’s not a long distance. But in
this situation it was. Her father had instructed what to do if you had
to make an emergency landing on the water. Rule #1 was to stay calm,
which she tried to do, but it wasn’t easy. Rule #2 was to land on
anything floating, and stay there if you couldn’t fly. It was likely
that your “raft” would be pushed to shore by the wind. She had done
that. Almost an hour went by, and she was still about one-eighth of a
mile from shore.
The situation was already bad enough, but then the board stopped
moving. Apparently, it got hung up on something. Maybe there was
another piece of the board underwater, and it had caught on something.
The water was shallow there, so it was certainly possible. She waited
ten minutes, but the board remained stationary except for the
bouncing. Darkness was closing in, and it seemed like the wind was
Suddenly, the board lurched towards the shore. It wasn’t just moving
with the wind. It was moving at a good pace as if some invisible force
was propelling it forward. She hung on tight, and before she knew it,
the board had beached itself on the shore. She fell off and looked
around but saw nothing but the log and dark water. Branna didn’t know
what had just happened but she was very grateful for it.
She was near Mrs. Porcupine’s cottage, but there was no light coming
from the windows. She looked to her right towards her home, which was
about one-quarter mile away. Through the wind blown spray, she thought
she saw her family on their dock.
The wind had awakened Bartholomew at 7 bongs. It was gusting through
the tree branches, and the time had come to close the storm shutters.
He got up, went to each of his four windows, and closed and latched
the heavy wooden shutters. That made the wind much less noticeable.
Flying would be more difficult tonight, but it must be done if at all
possible. As a matter of fact, it would be a good idea to check on
things now, while there was still some daylight.
Flying was somewhat demanding in the wind, but he managed. As usual,
he flew counterclockwise. Everything was uneventful until he was
nearly finished. Then, he spotted the Bluebird family on their dock.
They seemed concerned about something, so he landed. He noticed that
Branna was not with them.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Hello, Bartholomew. Branna has not returned from her last delivery
to the chipmunks. She should have been back over an hour ago. The wind
is too strong for us to fly out over the pond to search,” answered
Bartholomew heard the anxiety in his voice. The rest of the family
huddled together on the dock. They were trying to keep warm as they
looked out over the water for Branna.
“I will begin a search now,” said Bartholomew. “Everybody, stay
He took off and flew south over the pond. He saw well in the dark,
but there was a lot of water to search, and Branna was small. When he
got to the south shore, he turned back north and flew in a crisscross
pattern as he went. He was worried. He feared that he wouldn’t be able
to find her.
After laying in the cold mud for a while, Branna picked herself up
and began stumbling along the shore towards home. As she got closer,
she saw her father, mother, and sisters on the dock staring out over
the pond. She knew she was safe now and let out a sigh of
She approached the dock and quietly walked onto it. She was a pitiful
looking bluebird with her soaked and matted feathers.
Shivering in the cold, she sobbed, “Looking for anyone I know.”
Her family turned around. Stunned, they rushed to her. They were now
crying, also. The Bluebird family hugged for a long time, and then she
told them what had happened.
Her father said, “We are so proud of you, honey. You did everything
Bartholomew then landed on the dock. He had planned on giving them a
gloomy report but was surprised and overjoyed to see that Branna had
The relieved and happy group went to the bluebirds’ treehouse. Her
mother wrapped Branna in a warm towel and hugged her again. Her wing
was still sore but, other than that, she felt pretty well.
They enjoyed a simple dinner of tomato soup and bread. After eating
Bartholomew wished everyone well, gave Branna a hug, and flew the
short distance back to his home. This was a situation that could have
ended very badly, and he was grateful it hadn’t. He settled down next
to the fire with his sailing ship book, and the storm provided the
reading background he appreciated.
As he read the histories of those ships and looked at their pictures,
an idea occurred to him. Would the residents be interested in building
a sailing ship for the pond? The HMS Ballymore, he chuckled to
It certainly would be a worthwhile community project. The boat could
be used for general sailing and transportation around the pond.
Currently, there was only the raft that the ducks used to transport
residents and cargo. A second watercraft would be very useful.
However, it would take significant effort to build and maintain.
Despite a few misgivings, the more he thought about the idea, the more
he liked it. Would the residents agree? There was only one way to find
out. Call a meeting and ask them. He began to think about what type of
boat would be most useful and enjoyable for everyone. Time passed
Just after midnight, he peeked out the door. The wind was strong and
blustery, and it was raining hard. It was no longer possible to fly.
The treehouse felt the wind but was secure despite an occasional
shudder. As the storm raged on, he would sleep soundly tonight in his
warm, safe home. The other residents of Ballymore would also,
When they awoke in the morning, the storm had ended. There were
debris strewn about, and several old tree limbs had fallen. Happily,
none of the cottages were damaged, and everything would be cleaned up
by evening. All in all, it could have been much worse. The forecast
for the new day was green-green-purple.