CSI Bird Patrol - Chapter 2

Following is Chapter 2 in the saga of the CSI Bird Patrol from the pen of Field Studies Supervisor Neal Cowan.  To see Chapter 1 use the search box at the top left-hand corner of this page and enter CSI.

Chapter 2:

The sunrise was cloaked in grey as the dreary day rolled on.  Agent Baird had been raised from bed far too early this cold morning.  There had been a break-in down on old Jay Bird Street.  Four people were missing.  It didn’t look good.  A member of the notorious Cowbird gang had been picked up on the scene and Blue and Chicka were on their way to headquarters to do a little interrogating.

Corinne Tarin, brains of the Cowbird gang

Corinne Tarin: brains of the Cowbird gang.  She is always looking out for her family.  Her big brother Pryce is the muscle (and the leader if you ask him) of the gang.  He is about as quick as a damp rag and just as clever, but Tarin keeps him out of trouble.  Together you could say they are more of a nuisance then an actual gang.  They run in a diverse group with the Starlings and the Blackbirds, living off the backs of others, and always in trouble.  Tarin keeps a finger on the pulse of the underworld, so on a cloudy day she always has valuable information to trade for the protection of the family.

Tarin sat alone in the poorly lit room.  The cold metal of the table before her offering comfort as the shadows crept from her mind and danced around her at the edge of the light.  Tarin was no stranger to this room.  The interrogation room usually provided Tarin a certain solace, but today was different.  This time she didn’t have the upper hand.  The knowledge in her head could not buy her safety now.  This time it would be her betrayer.  No hope could hold back the fear; the nightmare of the night before.

The shadows cowered into oblivion as Beau entered the room and shut the door.  Taking his seat at the other side of the table, eyes hidden beneath his fedora, he began interrogating: in silence.  His presence alone was enough to ease her spirits.  The other cops treated her like a petty criminal, but Blue, in his own way, treated her like a person.  He could speak a thousand words with his silence.  A half-cocked smile formed on her face as she realized how cute it was that he thought he was such an enigma, but she could see right through him.  It made it that much more unbearable that she was now going to disappoint him.

“I’m sorry.”

An eternity passed after she said those words. Blue just sat there.

“Well…?” fighting the tears forming in her eyes. “Lock me up and throw away the key! That’s it! That’s all there is to it!”

HE’S GOT MY FAMILY BLUE!!!

Meanwhile:

            “I don‘know what you want me to tell you Caroline?  Unless Blue can get somethin’ outa her there ain’ nothin I can do”.  The chief tried to escape to his office but Chicka just followed him right in.

            “Chief, you know there’s no way the Cowbirds are responsible for this!  You saw that place!  What could they possibly have to gain?

“Ugh, listen Chicka, I know it don’ look good.  The whole sitiation stinks like rotten mayo, but there ain’ nothin I can do aboud’it.  That girl was the only one at the scene, her fingerprints are everywhere.  She looks guilty and she won’t say a darn thing to the contrary”.

With a sigh Chicka slumped down into the embrace of the cold hard wooden chair in the corner, much to the Chief’s chagrin.  The otherwise uninviting room wasn’t doing its job; uninviting the bird now planted in the corner.  It would be cozy if the Chief didn’t keep all the window shades shut tight and the thermostat low.  He rounded the big oak desk and planted himself in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh as he brought his weight off his feet.

“Has anyone contacted the husband yet”?

The Chief cracked his neck before giving his reply. “No”.

Chicka just stared.

“He works in the Tech industry.  Was overseas doing work for some big defense contractor, PredGuard?… I think?  I don’know.  He won’t answer his phone and he hasn’t responded to any of our emails yet”... The Chief’s sentence trailed off as his gaze drifted into space.

“What is it Chief”?  Chicka perked up in her seat.

“Now that I think on it, something fishy happened when we first tried to get in touch with our missing husband.  The first call we made was to his cell phone.  No one answers right, but just then this guy calls us.  Some bigwig.  Says he’s the guy’s boss and wants to know if there’s anything he can do.  Sounded alright then, but… How did he know we were lookin?  We didn’t call him…hell we didn’t even know who he was!  How did I not catch that ‘til now”?!

“So who was he”?

“I don’know.  Called himself Rocown?  Ricky Rocown.”

To be continued…

Submitted by Neal Cowan, World Bird Sanctuary Field Studies Supervisor

Tales From The Field: CSI Bird Patrol

For all you regular readers, here is a little change of pace from our 2013 Field Studies Supervisor, Neal Cowan.

Tales From The Field

CSI Bird Patrol

Prologue:

For those of you who do not know me, I’m Neal Cowan and I’m running our 2013 nest box study, sponsored by Ameren, Missouri. Instead of a traditional blog, I thought it might be fun to tell you a little story about some of the mysteries I face, while embellishing the facts a little. All of the characters and events in the tale you are about to hear are allegories for birds, as well as some of the things I have to deal with in the field.  It is a wild world out there, and things don’t always go according to plan. While we all hope for the best, birds included, many nests will fall victim to predation before the chicks have time to fledge. This is the story of one such nest. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Meet our main character, Beau "Blue" Baird

Chapter 1:

It was a cold spring morning.  The kind of morning when you wake up and expect to find yourself eye-to-eye with a bad day.  Beau Baird glared with bloodshot eye at the clock from under the pillow: 4:32am.  Today was going to be just that--a bad one.  He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed.

“Dear Lord…” he murmured, “I’m coming…don’t get your panties in a twist.”

The insistent banging on the hard oak door was hardly an inviting wakeup call.

            “You better be smoking hot, or on fire.”

The hinges cried and the chain snapped tight as he peered into the poorly lit hall.  He immediately recognized the petite figure at the doorway and let out an audible sigh as he shut the door and let loose the chain. The door was opened, but she didn’t come in.

            “What do you want?“

            “Why aren’t you answering your phone?!,” She interrupted.

            “Chicka it’s 4…“

            “Get your pants on Blue, we’ve got a case.” And quicker than you could say coffee, she had disappeared down the hall.

           

            Caroline Dea always had too much energy, in Beau’s opinion anyway.  Once she got her nose into something that was it.  She was in high gear to the end.  Beau Baird, or Blue, as she took to calling him, was the polar opposite. For the best he always figured. She keeps him moving, and he keeps her feet on the ground.  He never knew for sure where she picked up the name “Chicka” though.

            He pulled on a pair of clean white slacks and his red turtleneck, grabbing his blue trench coat and fedora as he headed out the door.  The few minutes it took him to get dressed and into the car must have felt like an eternity to her.  She was already behind the wheel and looked like she could jump clean out of her skin at the drop of a hat.

            “There’s been a break-in, down on Jay Bird Street.  Four people are missing and the place is a wreck.  Corinne Tarin was picked up on the scene, but…” She was spitting words like a tommy gun spits lead.

            “Slow down Chicka, I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Swing by Dave’s and…”

            “Ugh, when are you going to learn?” She glanced at the styrofoam cup sitting in the holder next to his left knee as they sped down the road.

            Beau smiled and sighed in relief as he reached for the dark ambrosia.

            “So like I was saying, the neighbors reported a commotion and Corinne was picked up on the scene…“

            “Corinne? Of the…”

            “Yeah, as in member of the cowbird gang.”

            “But they…“

            “Exactly, that’s what I’m saying: this whole thing smells fishy!” She finished her sentence as they pulled up on the scene.

            With the sun peeking over the rooftops, but not quite reaching street level, the old brick house looked like Blue was feeling; like it was waking up to a day it just didn’t like the feel of.

            Blue and Chicka jumped out of the car and crossed the yellow police tape.  The cops had come and gone, leaving just one patrol car on the corner to keep an eye on things.  Of course the officer inside had long since dozed off.

            Once inside, the true scope of the carnage gave Blue pause.  With the yellow tape and broken window, there was no mistaking that this was a crime scene.  Inside it looked more like a hurricane had blown through than anything a mortal could have done.  Furniture was thrown around.  There was broken glass everywhere.  There were holes in the walls, and even the carpet was torn up.

            Chicka was speechless.  This worried Blue more than anything else.

           

            A member of the Cowbird Gang was found fleeing the scene when the cops arrived. Sure they’re a nuisance, destructive and annoying, but vandalism and kidnapping? This just isn’t there M.O. They like to lay their eggs in other birds’ nests so to speak, not destroy them.

            “You said there are four people missing?” Beau took a sip from his coffee.

            “Yeah, the father is out of town on business, but the wife and their three children are unaccounted for.”

            “What was Corinne doing here?” he mumbled as they continued examining the house.

           

            They wandered from room to room for a few more minutes, neither of them making a sound. The police, before them, had scoured the place with a fine toothed comb and found nothing. It was clean… too clean…

           

            “Let’s get downtown. I want to hear what song our caged bird has to sing about this.”

To be continued…

Submitted by Neal Cowan, World Bird Sanctuary Field Studies Coordinator