The Smallest Sound

By Rae (2005)
(originally published in the zine, Like Water, Like Fire)

The sound was so small that the first time Starsky heard it he ignored it. He was about to go back indoors, but he heard it again and stopped, listening hard. It was some kind of squeak. Not a mouse, not mechanical or a sticky hinge. It sounded distant, but maybe not. Hard to tell.

It was gone. He went in.

There were things he wanted to get done. He gathered up laundry, put away clean dishes, ran the vacuum, and, because he couldn't get it out of his head, took his last cup of coffee back outside and listened for the sound he'd heard earlier.

Somewhere up the canyon there were people on horseback. He could hear the occasional chink of metal on stone, and chatting voices. Straight up overhead vultures wheeled, beautiful and ominous. Something dead somewhere. Well, if it was something human, it wasn't his trouble. He had the whole Memorial Day weekend off, and he had plans. He wasn't going to answer the phone, nor go anywhere that someone from Metro might spot him.

He sat on the top step where he could see the Torino. It looked good, but it was on the list. Car wash, groceries, laundry. Get it all out of the way and still have two good days. An auto show, a swap meet, and maybe some late evening disco and a chance to get lucky. Depending on how that went, he'd either spend Monday in bed, or else he'd see if Hutch was up for some beach time, or maybe a drive up to Santa Barbara for dinner at the Big Yellow House. Unless he'd gotten lucky. In which case a good book, at least two naps, a six-pack, and later he and his little charcoal grill could meet up with some fine sirloin. And to top it all off, they didn't have to be back at work until three on Tuesday. No matter what, it was going to be a good weekend.

Sitting around drinking coffee wasn't getting any of it done. He tossed the last little bit over the railing, and turned toward the door. There it was again.

It wasn't something he'd normally give a second thought to, but there was a quality to the sound that compelled him. He didn't know why. He set the mug down and leaned out over the railing, his left ear turned down, eyes closed. There. It was there. He trotted down the stairs, across the driveway, into the band of trees.

It was some kind of animal, and it was in trouble. He'd gotten used to the idea of wild critters nearby since he'd moved out of the city, but that didn't mean he wanted to get up close to any. This one sounded small, though. And in trouble. He didn't stop to think about what kind of trouble, or what he could do about it. He just started hunting for the source.

He'd never bothered to walk around behind the house before. He enjoyed looking into the woods, and out over the craggy canyon, but he had no particular interest in exploring it. It was nice under the trees, cooler, and sheltered. He had an odd sense that he was welcome there. He shook off the thought as much too fanciful.

A few feet in front of him, under a tree with low limbs and a wide trunk, something moved. He saw a sudden flash of orange, then another, and a third. The orange flashes vanished, then reappeared, and then vanished again. What the hell was it? If it was a snake, he was going to go back to his old apartment, never mind if someone else had already moved in.

He crept closer, and bent down, seeing nothing but a carpet of leaves, leaves that peeped. There! It was a mouth, no, three mouths. Some kind of bird. Baby birds.

"Terrific."

What the hell was he supposed to do with birds? He looked around carefully—for a nest, for signs of a parent, for anyone else who might know what to do. All he could find was a small and sad pile of grey feathers, about three feet to the right. He thought of the vultures circling above.

"Was that your mom?" He bent down onto one knee. "I'm sorry about that. Hope you didn't see what happened."

They were small victims of a violent crime. He had no choice. He scooped them up. All three of them fit in his one hand. They began to shriek.

"All right, all right! I ain't a bird, you know. What the hell do you eat? What do you want?" He stuffed some leaves in his pockets and stood up carefully. "Okay, you're with me. Let's go."

What did baby birds eat? Worms? Seeds? He had some vague memory of reading about birds that upchucked dinner for their babies.

"You're out of luck if that's what you need."

They stared at him for a second, and then, as if on cue, opened their orange mouths and started in hollering again.

Up the stairs and indoors, and they shrieked the entire time. He began to feel a little panicky. He wished he were in some alley behind a dumpster, gun drawn, dodging bullets. He knew how to handle that. He didn't have any idea how to handle this.

First, feed them. Something. Anything. No, find something to put them in. He got out a white ceramic bowl that his Aunt Rose had given him when he'd first moved out. He used it sometimes for serving guacamole. Well, now it was a bird's nest. One-handed, he put some paper towels in it, then some leaves, and then the birds. They snuggled right up, looked at him expectantly, and started in again.

"Man, you guys are louder than a mariachi band."

The refrigerator offered nothing more than some leftover kung pao chicken, half a bottle of milk, three bottles of root beer, a six pack of Coors, and the ground sirloin and potato salad he had ready in case he had his cookout.

"Burgers it is, then. Hope you ain't vegetarians." Were there bird vegetarians? How was he supposed to know?

He broke off some small pieces of the meat and warmed them in his hands.

As soon as he held it out, three mouths whipped open. He dropped a small piece of meat into each. When they swallowed, and gaped again, he felt a sudden flood in his gut of some odd sensation, something he didn't recognize, because he'd never felt it before.

"You think I'm your mom," he said.

Their mouths were huge, almost as big as their whole heads. They had a lot of feathers, but there were patches of bare skin under the wings. How old were they? What kind of birds? He kept offering little bits of the food until they stopped opening their mouths, closed their eyes, and fell over into each other.

"Man, you guys sure can drop a load." They'd put out at least as much as they'd taken in.

"Now what?" He went to the phone and dialed Hutch's number.

"Hutch," he said. "I need help."

"Where are you?"

"Home. I—" He held the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Hutch had hung up. "Something I said?" He shrugged.

He dialed The Pits.

"Hey, Huggy. I need some help."

"Where are you?"

"Home. Why does—"

"Trouble?"

"No, I just need to know everything you know about baby birds."

"What?"

"Baby birds. Birds. Babies. What do you know about them?"

"Starsky, do I appear to you to be a person who knows anything about baby birds? At least birds of the avian persuasion."

"Well, do you know anyone who does? I've got three baby birds here, of the avian persuasion. What do I do with them?"

If Huggy didn't know what to do, he was screwed. Wait, maybe Perkowitz would know. They were traumatized orphans. She could put them in foster care.

"Never mind, Hug. I got an idea." He had a fleeting vision of Huggy on the other end of the line, maybe staring at the phone like it was Starsky's own face, looking at him like he was thinking of calling Cabrillo State and telling them where to send the guys in the white coats. He hung up on a laugh.

He had to hunt down his address book, but by the time he found it, the babies were awake and hollering again.

"What, already?" He got out some more hamburger meat. "It's only been fifteen minutes. You were starving, weren't you?" He fed them all again, feeling a little more sure of himself, and cleaned up after them, and changed the paper towel under them.

In the distance he heard a siren, drawing closer. Not a sound he'd heard out here so far. Maybe someone had fallen off their horse. It wasn't an ambulance, though, it was a police siren. A burglary? Robbery? He felt like hiding in the closet. No way was he getting sucked into work. He had plans.

The siren became deafening, it wasn't going by, it was stopping out front. He glanced at the babies, afraid they'd be scared, but they were sacked out, sound asleep. What the hell was going on? He was not going in to work. Absolutely not.

Running footsteps up his outside stairs. No way. No fuckin' way. He'd fake appendicitis. Concussion. Stroke. He was not going to work this weekend.

Hutch burst through the door, hair wild, breathing hard, arms stretched forward. This was not good. This was very bad.

"Hutch, what—"

"Starsky! What is it? Poison? I called for an ambulance; they're on their way. What is it, buddy? Talk to me!"

"Jesus, Hutch. I'm not poisoned. I'm fine. What's wrong with you?"

"You said . . ." Hutch looked around, a little frantic, and put a hand on his chest. "I thought . . ." He dropped his hands and leaned back against the wall. "You said you needed help."

That siren definitely sounded like an ambulance. They both looked out the kitchen window, down the canyon road.

"Shit." Hutch said. "You sure you're okay?"

"You want me to make something up?"

"I'll be right back."

Starsky watched him go out to meet the ambulance. He talked to the driver for a minute, and then the ambulance turned around and pulled away. Hutch leaned against the Torino and rubbed hard at his face with both hands. Then he took a deep breath and looked up. Starsky gave him a small wave, and he shook his head and started back up the stairs. He didn't know why Hutch was making him feel guilty. He hadn't done anything wrong.

The babies woke up. Hutch came in, pulled out a chair, and sat down heavily.

"What the hell is that noise?"

Starsky pointed to the birds. "Check it out. I rescued them."

Hutch peered at them. "What are they?"

"Birds."

"Starsky."

"I don't what they are. They're birds. Do you know?"

"Nope."

"You're the big nature guy. Don't you know anything about birds?"

"Nope."

"I gave them some hamburg but that can't be good for them." He demonstrated how they opened wide for him, and hoped Hutch was impressed at how good he already was at feeding them. He looked up, grinning.

"They look okay to me," Hutch said. "What are you going to do with them?"

"That's why I called you. You have to take them until I can find foster care for them."

"Foster care?

"Yeah, I'm going to call Perkowitz."

"I'm not taking them. I have plans."

"What plans? You said you were just going to sleep and eat and read all weekend. I have plans."

"Call Perkowitz, because I'm not taking them." He stood up.

Starsky moved fast and blocked the door.

"You can't leave me here alone with them."

"Get out of the way, Starsky. I'm not staying here."

"You're not going to just abandon me, are you? You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Watch me." He tried to shove Starsky out of the way, but Starsky took up a stance and folded his arms across his chest.

"Some kind of partner you are," he said, glaring into Hutch's eyes.

"Don't try to manipulate me, pal. I know all your tricks."

Starsky thought fast.

"I'm scared, Hutch." That always worked. Always.

"You're not seriously trying that one on me, are you? They're baby birds. Give them food and keep them warm." He took hold of one of Starsky's arms and pulled. When he still didn't budge, he got a fistful of hair in one hand, and a belt in the other. A lift and a turn, and the doorway was clear, and he was out and down the stairs before Starsky could think of any way to stop him.

"I'll call you later," Starsky yelled after him.

"I won't answer," Hutch hollered back.

The birds began to wail.

He fed them again and cleaned them up. Their deposits were enormous and numerous. He dug out a heating pad from his bedroom closet, and put them on it, and then worried they'd be too hot. What was too hot? Too cold? There were too many things to worry about.

He called Perkowitz, not really expecting to find her at home, but she answered. He recognized that languorous tone in her voice and smiled into the phone. Odds on she wasn't alone.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said. "How are you?"

"Starsky? I'm a little busy. What's up?"

"Busy? It's nine in the morning. A holiday. You can't be that busy." He hoped he sounded cheery. "I got a favor to ask. I need your help, darlin'."

"Don't 'darlin' me, buster. I'm off duty. Call Marquette."

"No, it's not about work. I promise. C'mon, sweetie, I need you."

"This is not going to be something I'm going to want to do, is it?" She whispered something to whoever was with her, giggled and said, "stop it," and laughed again. "Just tell me what it is so I can say no and hang up."

"I've got some babies that need foster care. I'm desperate, here, Perkowitz. Come on. You gotta help me out."

Her voice changed. "You said 'not about work.'"

He waited. He heard her sigh.

"Babies? As in more than one? Infants?"

She was just as into her job as he and Hutch were. He knew he had her hooked now.

"Three. I don't know how old they are."

"Jesus Christ, Starsky, I'm off duty. Call someone else."

"No. I need you to handle this. It's, it's a special situation. You're the only one I trust on this." He lowered his voice a little. "Please, Perks, please. I'll make it worth your while."

"I'm uh . . ." She dropped her voice so he could barely hear her. "I'm not, uh, alone."

"Oh! Oh, man, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But this is an emergency." He knew now it was a done deal. "Tell him you're on back-up or something and you have to go in. He'll understand. I would." He paused for dramatic emphasis. "I'd wait for you to come home and I'd show you how much I'd missed you while you were off saving babies. I'd be so proud of you, you'd be glad you'd gone, because coming back would be so worth it—"

"Shut up, you asshole." There was a muffled sound, like she'd put her hand over the phone, and some smacking noises, and then giggling. He heard something that sounded like "thanks" and "sorry" and some more funny noises. "All right, I'm coming, but you're going to owe me. Owe me huge."

Starsky was pretty sure he could oblige. If she didn't turn right around and leave when she saw the babies.

He fed them again and watched them sleep. They had spots all over them that he hadn't noticed before, and some of the feathers on their chests were reddish. One of them opened an eye and saw him, and gaped its mouth wide, but before he could give it anything, it had fallen asleep again. They were so trusting, so certain that he would take care of them. In their world all they had to do was open their mouths and food would fall in. They had nothing else to do.

He wished he had a bird book. All he had were novels—thrillers and science fiction. Nothing about birds. He'd have to get one, see if he could figure out what kind of birds they were. Unless Perkowitz knew.

He remembered some show, maybe Wild Kingdom, where birds brought bugs and worms to the nest and dropped them into mouths. Maybe he should try to find some bugs. He didn't like the idea. But he got a paper cup and a plastic fork, told the babies he'd be right outside, just call out if they needed him, and went back into the trees.

The fork broke as soon as he tried to stick it into the ground. He went to the Torino and found a blackened screwdriver in the glove compartment. It made a pretty good worm digger. He dug around near the back of the house, and found quite a few worms, but they were huge. He took them back indoors, anyway. He could cut them up.

Where the hell was Perkowitz? She didn't live that far away, closer than Hutch, even. Maybe she'd taken some time to apologize to her lover. What were her priorities, anyway?

He started up the stairs and saw her ancient Datsun down at the bottom of the road. It disappeared and reappeared as it rounded the curves, and finally pulled up next to the Torino.

"What are you doing out here?" she said by way of a greeting.

"I was dig—, uh, I've only been out for a few minutes."

"You can't leave babies alone even for a minute."

"They were asleep."

She handed him some grocery bags and he looked in. Diapers, formula, glass bottles, rubber nipples.

Uh oh.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him up the stairs.

"How are you holding up?" she said. "Any idea where the parents are?"

"The parents. Well, the mother was brutally murdered, right in front of them. Father's whereabouts unknown. I don't really know anything else about them."

"Poor little guys. How'd you end up with them, then? I'm sure you didn't raise your hand and volunteer."

"No. But maybe you should just see them, and then you'll understand better." He opened the door and gestured for her to go through first. His stomach clenched up a little. This could be Armageddon.

She heard them immediately. "What the hell is that noise?" She looked at the kitchen table. "Oh my God in heaven. You've got to be out of your mind. Are you kidding me?"

He didn't dare look at her. He tugged her over to the table and sat her down near the little ceramic nest.

"Look at them, Perks, they need you. Look, this one's name is Amanda."

"You think naming it after me is going to make me melt?"

"Yep. It's working, right?" He got out some bits of meat. "Watch this." He fed them until they did their business and went back to sleep. "Cute, huh?" He changed their paper towel, and they never woke up. "You can find them a home, right?"

She stared at him. He grinned, and she stared at him some more.

"I'm going to kill you," she said.

It sounded not much different than if she'd said "nice day today," but he felt a little nervous anyway. He moved around to the other side of the table. He felt safer there.

"But you can find them a home, right? I have plans for the weekend."

As soon as he said that, he knew he shouldn't have. She stood up and turned to leave.

"Wait!" He tried the same tactic he'd used with Hutch. He blocked the door.

Luckily, this time he was the stronger one. She tried to get by him, not at all worried that she was maybe hurting his foot, or the skin on the inside of his wrist where she twisted it. He got an idea.

He snaked his right arm around her waist and his left hand under her chin, pushing up so that her head tipped back.

"Dinner at La Hacienda," he said, nose to nose. "Breakfast in bed."

"When?"

"You say."

"Wine?"

"And a flower."

"Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"With whipped cream. If there's any left by morning."

"Deal."

He let her go and she stepped back.

She smiled, but more to herself than at him. "I have to call Joe and tell him I'll be tied up for a while."

"Didn't know you liked it kinky."

"Don't push your luck, buster. Give me your phone."

He found some scissors and cut up a few of his worms, muttering "yuck" and "gross," and fed the babies again while she called, only half listening to her half truths about the poor little orphans.

"So who's this Joe guy?" he said after she hung up.

"You wouldn't want me to tell him about this Dave guy, would you?"

"I know him?"

"Let it go, Starsky."

"Lettin' go." He grinned.

"Where's your phone book?"

He got it out for her, made her a cup of coffee, and set it down near her.

"Do you know someone who can adopt them?" He almost looked at his watch, but changed his mind.

"I have some ideas, but don't get your hopes up too high. It's a holiday weekend. People aren't around."

He tried to be patient but it wasn't his strong suit. The birds woke up, and he fed them, almost without thinking about it. When they got full they just spit out whatever he dropped in. He thought it was kind of cute.

He listened while she spoke to someone at the local cat and dog shelter who gave her the number of someone who told her to call someone else who suggested she talk to the folks in the birds section at the LA Zoo who told her to call the local cat and dog shelter.

"I thought placing kids was tough." She held out her coffee mug for a refill.

The phone rang under her hand and she answered without thinking. She made a "sorry about that face" but it was too late. It didn't matter, though. He actually thought it was kind of nice. Domestic. His mind shied away from the concept.

She handed him the receiver. "It's Huggy. He didn't sound surprised that I answered."

"He wouldn't." He took the phone.

"Starsky, you in luck, brother. I got you the goods."

"I knew I could count on you, Huggy." Now he looked at his watch. Huggy had found a home for the birds, and he could get on with his day.

"You have to feed them worms, bugs, berries, and soaking wet dry cat food." There was an unmistakable grin in Huggy's voice. "You don't have to chew it up first, though. Oh and don't give 'em water, you could drown them. They get water from the wet cat food. But they gotta eat every twenty minutes. "

"What? Round the clock?" He felt a little saggy at the thought.

"Nope. Just sunrise to sunset."

"I thought you meant you found someone to take them." He shook his head at Perkowitz.

"You didn't ask me for that, man. You asked what to do with them. I got you that."

"Yeah. Okay, thanks." He started to say goodbye. "Hey, wait. Do you want the catering gig?"

Huggy just laughed, and hung up. Starsky handed the phone back to Perkowitz.

Outside he heard a rumble, and a minute or two later, footsteps coming up the stairs. Perkowitz, mid-dial, looked up, and he shrugged. A second later, Hutch came in without knocking.

"Hey, Perky!" He took a few quick steps and kissed her on the cheek. Then he took the phone out of her hand, hung it up, and kissed her on the mouth.

Starsky couldn't believe it.

"Hey," he said, indignant. "Hey! Not in front of the babies!"

Neither of them backed off, and in fact, neither of them seemed to hear him. The babies woke up and started yelling. Starsky fed them, and watched the show, grinning and feeling his jeans begin to tighten up. The birds were oblivious, unaffected. When they'd eaten their quotas and were sleeping again, Starsky tapped Hutch on the shoulder.

"Mmmm?" Hutch said.

"Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

Hutch lifted his lips off Perkowitz's, and she put a hand out behind her. She found one of the chairs, and sat down on it, hard, her free hand to her mouth. Hutch grinned after her, and handed Starsky a book.

"I felt bad," he said, "leaving you like that. Got you a book. I think they're robins."

He opened up the book to a page he'd marked, and they compared the picture of juvenile robins to Starsky's baby birds. Perkowitz came around behind and looked over Starsky's shoulder. He put a possessive arm around her shoulders and pushed her forward so she could see better.

"That reddish color on their chests," Hutch said, "that's robins." He put his arm around Perkowitz's waist, and pulled her toward him. She looked down at the birds, and grinned, and let herself be pulled.

Starsky, amused, let her go. He'd already made his deal; he had no worries. Right now, though, she had to keep up her end of the bargain.

"You had someone else to call?" He handed her the phone. The babies woke up and opened their mouths at Hutch. "You want to feed them, Uncle Kenny?"

"No, no. No thanks, no, that's all right. I'll just watch."

Starsky fed them, feeling a little smug about how good he was at it already. He removed their droppings without even making an "icky" face, and checked to see if Hutch had noticed. Hutch had, and was making an icky face of his own. Some nature boy he was. He'd probably never even changed a diaper. Come to think of it, neither had Starsky.

"I think they've grown since I found them." The biggest one suddenly stood up and flapped its wings. "Hey, look at that!"

Perkowitz hung up the phone. "You're one lucky mama. I found a suitable placement." She batted her eyes at Starsky a little, and grinned. "That's the good news."

Starsky grabbed her, and kissed her hard, watching Hutch over her shoulder. Hutch, blank-faced, flipped idly through the bird book.

"Might want to ask what the bad news is," Hutch said. "Just a thought."

Starsky thought maybe Hutch was right, but it would still be bad news in another few minutes. Might as well put it off a bit. He closed his eyes. Perkowitz was an excellent kisser. She did this thing with her front teeth and her tongue that just made him crazy.

"Excuse me," Hutch said.

"Not now," Starsky said.

Perkowitz said nothing, and put her hands around him, and started moving them downward. She tried to get one hand into his back pocket, why, he couldn't figure, but it was too tight a fit, and she couldn't manage it.

"Uh, Starsk, you might want to take a look at this."

Shit. He pulled back, away from Perkowitz's mouth, and glared at Hutch.

"What?"

Hutch pointed at the birds. Little Amanda had fallen out of the bowl, and Little Flapper was standing on the edge of it, ready for anything. Little Sleepyhead was awake, mouth open wide.

"Jeeze, Hutch, why didn't you say something?" He let go of Perkowitz and stepped around her fast.

"I did."

"Now what do I do?"

He had nothing else to put them in. And they needed something besides cut up worms and his grade A prime ground sirloin. And then he remembered.

"Wait. What was the bad news?" He didn't want to know. He was sure of that.

Perkowitz put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He fought an urge to push it off.

"The wildlife rehabber can't take them until Monday afternoon."

"What? No way. No way. I have things I have to do. What am I supposed to do now? She's got to take them today."

"It's a he, and he was very adamant. Not till Monday. He's swamped with animals, and he won't have time for them until Monday." She seemed to realize just how bad this news was. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Did the guy tell you anything else, like what I'm supposed to do with them all weekend? How am I going to do anything if I have to feed them every twenty fuckin' minutes?"

"He said you're doing fine, but stick with the worms and bugs, not the hamburger. You can get some dry cat food, and soak it so it's dripping wet and soggy, and give them that, too. He said that's the easiest and best thing."

"Yeah, that's what Huggy said, too."

Hutch put the book down, and stood up. "I'm going to come through for you, buddy," he said. "I'm going to go into town and get you a bird cage."

"I don't have any dry cat food."

"I'll pick some up."

"I don't have anything to eat."

"I'll pick up something for you, too."

"Something edible?"

"Yes, something edible."

"I have a ticket to the auto show."

"Take them with you."

"Are you serious?"

Perkowitz said, "The ladies will love it."

Huh. There was an interesting thought.

"No," he said. "That's exploitation of minors."

"You're a good man, Starsky." She kissed him. "I'll come over on Monday and drive you up to the rehabber's place. You can take me to La Hacienda after."

"What, you're leaving? Now?" He tried to grab her arm but she ducked away out of his reach.

Hutch gave him a smirk, and followed her out. Starsky felt compelled to look out the window, but he knew what he'd see and he didn't feel in the mood to watch anymore. And anyway, if Hutch saw him looking, he'd just make out with Perkowitz all that much longer. So he stayed away from the window and instead sat down at the table and fed the babies, and cleaned them up, and put them back in the bowl, and watched them sleep.

His brain was already adjusting to twenty-minute increments of activity. It was about his normal attention span anyway, so it didn't seem all that weird. He read some of the bird book with a fourth cup of coffee, and took the babies in their bowl with him to the bathroom when the coffee caught up with him. He carried them back out to the kitchen and set them down, and just before they started peeping again, he got their worm bits ready. When they started in, he fed them, cleaned them up, and put them down for their nap. He was an expert now.

Eventually he ran out of things to do that took eighteen minutes, and began to wonder if Hutch was coming back. It was already lunchtime, past lunch time, really, so he sighed, and made up some burgers, marinated them, and set them ready. He started up his little charcoal grill, and set the lid just right, and laid out his grilling tools, and hoped he could get Hutch to stick around.

He ran out of worms, and the meat was marinated. It couldn't be used for bird food anymore. Where the hell was Hutch? If he was going to stand him up, the least he could do was call and let him know.

The coals were ready. The hell with Hutch. He'd have a nice lunch, and put the birds in a box or something, and go and get their dinner himself. He put two burgers on, and ran downstairs to find some more worms. He discovered that if he looked in shadier places where the soil wasn't too dry, and if he picked up big rocks, he could find them pretty easily. He filled his paper cup with them and went back upstairs. All three of the babies were out of the bowl and on the table, and as soon as they saw him they put their heads back and opened their mouths wide.

"Hang on, kids. Gotta make you some bite sized pieces." Cutting up the worms didn't bother him at all by now. "Babies gotta eat, don't they?" He fed them. "My turn now."

His burgers were perfectly done. He set them on his plate, doctored them up the way he liked them, added a nice big dollop of potato salad, and held up the first one to show the kids what mommy liked to eat.

"Not all that different from what babies like to eat, huh?" They watched him for a while as he ate, but then sleep overtook them and they fell into each other again. What a life. Eat and sleep. It sounded really good.

Hutch's car had an unmistakable sound. Starsky put the second burger down, half-finished, and went to the window.

"Finally!"

Hutch looked up and waved, and reached into the back seat. He'd been busy, apparently, and loaded himself up with his purchases, grinning up at Starsky a couple of times, and making Starsky feel bad for doubting him. He went to meet him downstairs, and Hutch handed him a bag full of groceries and a large cage.

"Wait till you see what I brought," Hutch said. "You're gonna love it."

He helped set up the cage first, and they transferred the babies over, and unpacked the groceries. Plenty of food, enough for the whole weekend, and all apparently edible. Starsky reached for his unfinished burger, and saw the last of it disappear into Hutch's mouth.

"Sorry," Hutch said. "Want me to make another one?"

"Yeah, go for it. I'll cut up some of this fruit for you." There were some blueberries and strawberries. Good nutrition for the birds. He washed out the ceramic bowl, and put some of the dry cat food in it to soak.

"Look at this," Hutch said. "I got you tweezers. See? Rounded end, nice and safe."

Starsky was surprised and pleased. Not many guys would have thought of that. He smiled at Hutch, and cuffed him on the shoulder by way of a thank you. He wanted to try them right away, but the babies still slept. Next round would have to do. This would make feeding time easier.

"Be right back," Hutch said. He jogged down the stairs to his car, and came back a minute later, holding something behind his back. "Close your eyes."

"What is it?"

"You won't find out if you don't close your eyes."

"If I close my eyes I won't be able to see it."

"Starsky. Close your eyes."

He closed them, and held out a hand. Something rough and lightweight. He opened them. It was a wicker fishing creel.

"What's this for? You going up to the lake?" Was this Hutch's way of telling him he was taking off on him?

"No, moron, it's for the birds. So you can go to your show, and take them with you." He opened the lid. "I washed it out, and it's got leaves and some pine needles in it. It's perfect."

"I don't know what to say. I could kiss you! This is perfect." His world opened back up, and, though he'd gotten resigned to missing out on all his plans, he felt a lot happier now. "I owe you, pal. This is great."

The birds woke up and begged for some lunch, so Starsky tried out the tweezers with some bits of blueberry and the soaked cat food.

"Much better," he said. "Want to give it a try?"

Hutch took the tweezers and leaned over the table next to Starsky, touching shoulders, and dropped bits of food into their mouths until they stopped opening them. He grinned at Starsky, and then back at the birds.

"Who's your mama now, babies?"

"Fun, isn't it?"

"It is."

"But now you have to do janitorial services." He handed Hutch a clean paper towel. "I should have asked you to pick up more towels. I've gone through a ton already." He handed Hutch a fork. "Want some of the fruit?"

"Sure, and one of those beers. After that, you're on your own."

Beer and fruit. And he disparaged Starsky's diet? At least being on his own wasn't as horrifying a thought as it had been earlier.

They sat at the table and drank the beer and ate the fruit, and talked about their various plans for the weekend. Starsky thought he might still pull off an evening of disco after the birds went to bed for the night, but he'd forget about getting lucky. He'd have to get up at sunrise, so what was the point?

"You're going to make a great dad someday," Hutch said. "It's all about sacrifice.'

"At least kids don't have to be fed every twenty minutes." He got out the tweezers and did his duty. "Do they?"

Hutch shook his head, like he would know.

Starsky said, "After this, kids would be snap."

"Birds leave home in a few weeks. You're stuck with a kid for life."

"Don't you want kids someday?" He cut up some fruit and put it in a small bowl from the top shelf.

"Sure, doesn't everyone?"

"I guess. I always wanted a family, kids, be a dad." He felt a little sorry for them both. "Why aren't we married, then? Why aren't we living that life? We both want that."

"We'll have it. It's just not time yet. The job takes it all."

"Yeah. The job. And the girls." He glanced up at Hutch and grinned.

"Yeah. The girls." Hutch leaned back in his chair. "You taking Perky out for dinner Monday night?"

"Yep. Had to make a deal to get her over here. Dinner, breakfast, night in between. Wonder if she wants a family?"

"You and Perkowitz?"

"What, you and Perkowitz?" He couldn't picture it for either of them, not for the long haul. She wasn't the monogamy type anyway. And, well, for that matter, neither were they.

"She doesn't want it. She's told me that before. She gets her kid fix at work, and she gets to live her life the way she likes it. No worries."

"Smart lady."

"Yeah."

"So what's wrong with that? We've got Kiko and Pete, and they'll grow up and have kids. Why not just get our fixes from them, and do what we want?" He put the leftovers from lunch away and wiped up the counter. Hutch pushed their empty beer bottles across the table, and the leftover fruit. Starsky tossed the bottles, covered the fruit up with a plate, and put it in the fridge.

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"It's working, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"When it stops working, we'll reevaluate."

"Makes sense. When'd you turn sensible?" He got the rest of the plates from lunch, and stacked them in the dishwasher. The babies were up, so he started to feed them again.

"What? I'm always sensible." Hutch took the tweezers and gave them each a few pieces of worm.

"You just keep being sensible, Butch. That's what you're good at."

"Okay, Sundance, you're on your own. I'm riding out."

"Sure you don't want to go to the auto show tomorrow? Swap meet after." He knew Hutch would say no, but it was worth a try. He raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe the swap meet. Definitely not the show."

"I'll call you when I'm heading over there. Going late, better deals."

"What are you looking for?"

"Nothing in particular. I know it when I see it."

Hutch nodded, and got up and took a last look at the babies.

"I have to say, Starsk, you constantly surprise me. I'd never have pegged you for anything like this."

"Me neither. Kind of makes you think of things outside yourself."

"Have fun, mom."

"Thanks, pal." He went out with him and stood at the top of the stairs. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Hutch waved backwards, and started whistling. Starsky grinned after him, and went back inside.

Monday morning rolled around a lot faster than he'd expected, and by then he was seriously considering keeping his babies. Even if he had to take some vacation time. He figured he could call in some favors—Minnie owed him two, and maybe Rosie Dobey could take them to school for a day, after some intensive training of course. And there was Nancy. She had a pretty soft heart, and he'd been meaning to call her anyway. Plus he'd gotten the numbers of three different girls at the auto show, and one from the swap meet. They had all loved the babies. Hutch could make up a calendar and schedule in everyone, and set up transportation and backup caregivers.

He took some pictures of them, disgusted that he hadn't thought of it sooner. He could have chronicled their progress. He'd ask Perkowitz to take some of him with the babies when she got there.

He fed them, and carried them out to the back deck and opened their door. They hopped around his feet for a while, and then, one by one, flew up to his lap, settled themselves, and went to sleep.

Maybe he could even talk his mother into coming out. She'd been complaining about how long since she'd seen him. That would be ideal. He thought he had enough money in his checking account for a plane ticket. Or he could just put it on his MasterCharge. Maybe he should call her before it got too late . . .

It was crazy. He had to be realistic. He never knew what might come up. What if something happened to him or Hutch, and he couldn't get home? He put his head back and closed his eyes.

He just didn't want to let them go. What if that rehabber guy didn't care anything about them? He had a lot of other animals, what if he didn't pay them enough attention? And they'd already lost one mother, now they were going to lose another. That didn't seem fair.

Little Sleepyhead woke up and managed to get enough lift to make it to the top of Starsky's head. He could feel the tiny pricking of nails in his scalp. He liked the way it felt.

He couldn't believe how fast they'd grown. Flying already, where just two days before they'd been barely feathered and asleep most of the time. Now they were awake most of the time, and he could go almost an hour between feedings. They were eating twice as much, though. They liked the brown cat food best. The gray stuff was horrible and they always spit it out. He had to remember to tell that to the rehabber guy. And they could eat half a worm easily, but not a whole one yet. They spit out whole ones. And they liked strawberries and grapes, but blueberries were much better, and also turned their droppings an interesting shade of purple.

Forget it. He wasn't going to let them go. He wondered if Perkowitz would still let him take her to La Hacienda. She'd have to wait until the babies' bedtime, or they could just go along in their fishing creel. He didn't much like the idea of leaving them for a whole evening. He hadn't even gone to the disco. They'd watched a Hitchcock movie—not The Birds, that wouldn't have been suitable. The other one with the same actress. He hadn't paid much attention.

He dozed off in the sun.

"Starsk."

"Yeah?" He woke up with a start, a protective hand over the babies still asleep on his belly. "Hutch?"

"I wanted to say goodbye to the kids. Sorry I woke you."

Starsky sat up carefully, blinking and squinting.

"They're staying."

"What? Did the rehabber bug out on you?"

"No. They're just staying."

"Oh come on, you can't keep them. How are you going to take care of them?"

"Got it all worked out. I'm not giving them up for adoption. That's the end of it."

Hutch shook his head and went inside, and came back with a carton of orange juice and two glasses. He poured it out, and set one down within Starsky's reach.

"Can you get me their food?" Starsky said. "It's on the counter."

Hutch brought it out, and fed the birds, still in a pile on Starsky's lap, himself. Starsky drank his juice, and watched, smiling and wincing when they tickled the skin on his thighs.

Revitalized, the babies hopped about, picking at the hairs on Starsky's chest and making him squirm, and making Hutch smile.

"Can you take some pictures of us? I was going to ask Perks but now you're here, can you do it?"

Hutch went in again and found the camera, and took some shots, trying to get the babies to stay put, and not having much success.

"I think I got a good one of Amanda on your head."

"Don't say that in front of Perkowitz."

"Why not?" And then, "Oh." He leered at Starsky. "You dog." He put the camera down. "What time is she coming over?"

"Around three." He looked at the babies. "I can't keep them, can I?"

"No, buddy."

"It was nice thinking I could."

"I know, pal." Hutch took his shirt off and laid himself out on a deck chair.

"You gonna hang out?"

"Thought I would." He closed his eyes. "How was the auto show? Sorry I didn't go to the swap meet. Did you get anything?"

"The auto show was great. I picked up something for cleaning the dashboard, works great. The chicks were a big hit with chicks—Perkowitz was right about that." He scratched an itch where one of the babies had slid down his stomach. "I got you something at the swap." He gathered up the birds and put them in the middle of Hutch's chest, and watched as his skin twitched and contracted under the tiny nails.

He went inside and came out with a heavy bag, and set it down on the deck next to Hutch's chair. He took the babies back and settled them down.

"Open the bag," he said.

"What is it?"

"Open it!"

"I don't have to guess?"

"Just open it."

Hutch peeked in, and then looked up, delighted. "Binoculars! Fantastic." He pulled them out and opened the case. "They look new."

"No, they're used, but they're really good ones. I got us each a pair. Zeiss. Good optics, 8 X magnification. Hand me one."

They played with the focusing dials for a while, looking into the woods, and up the canyon.

"You can practically see the fur on those birds up there," Starsky said, and waited for Hutch to say "feathers." When he didn't, Starsky gave a little mental shrug and a grin. "Look up over there, a hawk."

"How do you know it's a hawk?"

"Looked it up in your book. It's a red-tailed hawk."

"This is great, Starsk. We're bird watchers."

"Of the avian persuasion."

"Of the what?"

Starsky grinned. "It's something Huggy said."

"We should take them over to The Pits so he can meet them."

"I stopped in yesterday after the swap meet. He gave them some strawberries."

As if they knew the word, the birds perked up and opened their mouths. Starsky fed them and settled them, and laid back in his lounge chair again, feeling relaxed and sleepy.

He gestured toward the woods. "I never noticed all the birds around here before. There's millions of 'em." He listed the ones he'd identified so far. "Listen, you can hear them. I never noticed that before either."

"I didn't think you'd last out here. Guess you're going to like it after all."

"I'm going to miss the birds. I won't get to see them grow up. How do girls ever give up their babies for adoption?"

"Pretty brave thing to do."

"I didn't think of it that way."

"They'll be fine, Starsk. You did a good job."

"Yeah."

They lazed in the sun for a while, half asleep, until the birds roused them. Starsky figured he'd have a hard time getting used to no time limits again. Funny how easily he'd adapted to them. He'd fitted himself around their needs, and it had been easy and fun. But he'd known all along it was only for a little while, not a lifetime. True, he hadn't wanted to give them up, still didn't, and if it weren't for the kind of job he had, he'd willingly have kept them, adjusted his schedule for them, watched them grow, and set them free when they didn't need him anymore.

They finished eating their worms, and he made some sandwiches from the supplies Hutch had brought him, and carried them out for the adults. After that, they played with the binoculars some more and looked through the bird book, and eventually dozed off again.

Sometime later Hutch said, "Starsky, we're being watched."

"I just fed 'em. Not time yet."

"Starsky, wake up, we're being watched."

Starsky opened one eye. He liked what he saw, so he opened the other and sat up.

"You two," Perkowitz said, "make life worth living." She leaned against the deck railing, smiling, the sun lighting her from behind and giving her an otherworld look.

"You're welcome to join us," Hutch said. "Plenty of room here." He patted the four inches of available deck chair next to his left hip.

"No shirts allowed, though," Starsky said.

Perkowitz gave him a look, and he grinned back.

"Some cops you are. I walked right up the stairs and neither one of you woke up."

"Not cops today."

"Well, whatever you are, it's time to roll. You coming with us, Hutch?"

"No, I'm just the cheering section. I'll head out when you guys hit the road."

"I'm ready," Starsky said. "I just have to feed them once more and get their stuff together."

"I'll feed them," Hutch said.

He got their buffet ready and doled out their portions, and Starsky gathered their cage, their cat food, the tweezers, and the last of his worms. He emptied out their traveling creel and left it by the door for Hutch.

It was time to go. Starsky held the cage door open, and Hutch put the babies in, one by one.

"You did a good thing, Starsk. I'm proud of you, buddy." He gave him a quick hug. "Have fun tonight," he said into Starsky's ear. He let him go and stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow. You picking me up?"

Starsky nodded, and Hutch turned to Perkowitz. "And I'll see you Friday. Eight o'clock all right?" When she nodded, he kissed her, and then whacked Starsky on the arm and left, waving again over his shoulder.

Perkowitz grinned after him, but when she turned back to Starsky, she looked a lot more serious.

"You okay?" she said.

It was what he liked most about her. She was funny and lighthearted, but she knew when not to be. She knew he cared, so she did.

"Yeah." He handed her the cage. "Only one thing, though," he said. "I'm drivin'."

About three weeks later, the rehabber called and said the birds were ready for release, and that he would bring them up to Starsky's place, if he wanted.

Starsky was delighted. He thought about inviting Hutch and Perkowitz, but in the end, he wanted to be alone. He'd missed his little family, and hadn't adjusted well to letting them go. He was afraid he might get soapy, and no one needed to witness that.

Waiting for them to arrive was difficult. He turned puttering into a fine art, and got a bunch of little things done that he'd been putting off. Finally, he heard the sound of a pickup, and went out to meet them.

"Thanks for bringing them, Fred," he said. They shook hands, but Starsky looked over the guy's shoulder, anxious for a glimpse of the babies. Fred grinned, and got the cage out from the covered bed of the truck.

Starsky couldn't believe they were the same birds. They were full grown robins now, all alike, with long sharp beaks and dark liquid eyes. The orange of the breast feathers was striking. All their spots were gone. He carried them up the stairs, and held the door open for Fred.

"I don't know how you do this all the time," he said. "Isn't it hard to see them go?"

"You get used to it," Fred said. "You won't believe how it feels the first time you see them fly off." He looked over the railing into the woods. "This is perfect for them here. You watch. They'll come out of the cage, and hop around a while, and then all of sudden, they'll take off, and land in the branches right over there, and then they'll look back at you for a minute, and then they'll go and start their lives. It's always like that, not just birds."

He gave Starsky a printed list of instructions on how to help them with the transition, and Starsky read it carefully.

"They'll hang around for a couple of days, and you can feed them if they come to you. After that, they should be on their own."

Starsky lifted the cage up and balanced it on the railing. "Should I open it?"

Fred nodded, and as soon as the door opened, all three of the birds hopped out. Starsky set the cage down out of the way. He expected them to come to him, delighted to see him, but they were much more interested in the view of the trees.

He offered Fred a beer, and they sat quietly in the deck chairs and watched, chatting about their jobs. Fred was a retired forester, and spent most of his time in the woods up near his ranch. His wife mostly took care of the mammals they got, and he mostly did the birds. Their kids were grown, but they were all animal lovers, too. Fred listened to Starsky's digest version of what his job entailed, and how he'd never given much thought to animals at all.

"They changed you, didn't they?" Fred said. "They have a way of doing that."

Suddenly one of the birds flew off, a short looping flight into the trees and back again.

"This is it," Fred said. "Watch, now. They'll all take off at the same time."

"Will they stay together?"

"For a while."

The birds lifted off like three little helicopters. They circled the deck once, and then went straight for the nearest branch. Just as Fred had said, they turned around and stared back for a moment, and Starsky was sure they were saying, "Thanks, mom, we'll be fine, now." And then they were gone.

"You're right," Starsky said. "That's amazing." If he'd tried, he couldn't have described how he felt, but Fred seemed to know. He'd been there himself.

"You want to do it again if I get too many to handle? You could get licensed. We can always use more rehabbers."

Starsky shook his head. "I don't have the right kind of lifestyle."

"Maybe someday." Fred got up to go, and Starsky walked down with him, shook hands again, and waved as he drove off.

He felt a little sad and empty for a moment, but he shook it off. Maybe they'd stop in for visits, show him the grandkids. He went back upstairs.

Over the next few days they hung around, and flew to him every time they saw him. After a while he stopped offering them things to eat, the way the instructions told him, but they still hung around. It was companionable to sit out in the sun before work and read, and have the three birds hanging out, hopping around, singing and chatting.

One day there were only two, and a few days after that, only one. He didn't know which. He knew they'd found new places to live, maybe already found new families. It was time for them to move on.

The bird hopped over and flew onto his arm. It cocked its head to one side, and turned one eye up to look at him. And then it made a small sound, almost like the little peeps that had first drawn him to them, alone and orphaned on the floor of the woods. A small liquid trill.

"Goodbye, baby," he said. The bird flew off, and disappeared up the canyon.

He never saw them again.

Photo credits: The first one of the three babies, Eenie, Meenie, and Minie (I was Mo) is one I took myself. Those guys were the inspiration for this story. The one of the single fledgling on the petunias is Ray, raised and photographed by Mara. I did the Photoshop filters.

Feed the Rae: racric@myfairpoint.net

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