The men rode their horses slowly along the riverbank. It was tough going; they were hindered by the tangle of branches and roots from the huge trees.

Joseph put Celeste on the brim of his hat for part of the trip, a great vantage point for sightseeing. She perched, gripping the hatband, fascinated by the scenery passing by. She had never seen such enormous trees. Their limbs stretched up, covered in hanging moss, reaching higher and higher until they ended in a blurred tangle. There were all sorts of strange and mysterious bird-calls and songs coming from them; Celeste felt tiny chills skitter across her skin.

Joseph’s hand reached up to the brim, and Celeste gratefully grabbed at an offered walnut. “You all right up there?” he called.

Just then Mr. Audubon heard a certain call from high up in one of the huge cypress trees. He loaded his gun and fired, bringing down a large black-and-white bird with a scarlet crest of feathers on its head. The shot had only wounded it, damaging one wing; and the bird floundered around on the ground and in the cane. “That one we can use for a painting. We haven’t got an ivory-billed yet,” Audubon shouted.

The bird cried piteously and repeatedly tried to stab the hands of anyone who grabbed at it. Back on the hat brim, Celeste watched the cheerless scene; maybe she could help the poor bird, she thought, once they got back to the plantation house.

“Haven’t ever seen a woodpecker before, Little One?” Joseph asked, rubbing her behind the ears to calm her.

The men went out with their guns looking for wild turkey and other game. It was Joseph’s job to walk through the cane, flushing out the birds. Stalks of cane towered way above Joseph’s head and surrounded them like high walls of a small room. The dizzying tangle of waving green dwarfed them. They soon lost sight of the other men, and Celeste felt as if she was in another, strange world.

Suddenly they heard a shotgun fire, and then a sound like an arrow hitting a haystack; and immediately Joseph keeled back into the cane. His hat, and Celeste, flew into the air and landed some distance away.

Celeste was disoriented and trembled in shock. The tall cypress trees and the thick cane towered over her. Evening was coming on, and darkness was spreading fast. She could see Joseph’s body lying a little distance away. His head was red with blood; it covered his face and ear and trickled into a puddle under him. It took a moment for Celeste to get her bearings and realize what had happened.

The shot had hit Joseph in the head.

Celeste panicked. She frantically started climbing over the jumbled labyrinth of cane reeds, wanting desperately to get back to the safety of Joseph’s pocket. She needed to know that he was all right.

The stalks of cane lay this way and that. Up she climbed, down she leaped, trying her best to grasp and balance. When she got to a high spot she located where Joseph lay, checked her position, and then started out again. In a crazed burst of energy, she scrambled over the cane and reached Joseph in seconds.

“H-help! Help!” Joseph called out weakly. Celeste let out her breath. She was relieved to hear him speak. She climbed up his arm, found his shirt pocket, and tunneled in.

Joseph smiled. He could feel the mouse over his heart.

“It’s okay, Little One,” he whispered. “It’s just a scratch.”

Audubon and the other men raced over to the boy and gathered him up. The stray shot had grazed his head just above his right ear. A surface wound only, but a messy one. His hair was matted and crusting over with dried blood.

One of the men washed out the wound and then tore off strips from an old saddle blanket, making bandages from it. “You know, Joseph, I could have swore you were the biggest wild turkey I ever did see!” he joked, and everyone laughed.

They started back to the plantation. And although she was safely tucked in Joseph’s pocket, Celeste thought only of going home, someplace safe, wherever that was.