Celeste hopped onto the desk and glanced around the room. She was ecstatic to be back in Joseph’s room, where things looked and smelled and felt comforting. Her heart felt a twang when she saw Joseph’s shirt hanging from its wooden peg. Cornelius was perched in the cage, head tucked under his wing, eyes closed. Celeste heard soft breathing coming from the cot, where she could see Joseph draped, sound asleep.

She squeaked up at the cage. “Psst! Cornelius!”

Cornelius opened one eye.

Celeste tried again. “It’s me!”

Cornelius leaped up with a start, calling from his cage. “Well, look what the cat dragged in!” he chirped.

“Quiet! I don’t want to wake anyone!”

Cornelius glanced over at the cot. “Hey,” he whispered, “I’ve been worried sick! Where in the world have you been?”

“Well, it’s quite a tale, involving lightning, wind, lots of rain, mud, almost drowning, and an osprey.” Celeste sighed.

There was a creaking from the cot. Joseph was turning over in his sleep.

“Here, a present for you,” whispered Celeste.

“Dogwood berries!” chirped the thrush. “You remembered!”

“Help me get this branch into your cage.”

She poked one end of the branch into the cage, and Cornelius eagerly plucked several berries, gobbling them down two at a time.

Celeste whispered, “Now, pull! Pull your end!”

“Pull? Pull it where? What are you trying to do?” Cornelius asked.

“You’ll see. Just keep pulling until I say stop!”

They pulled and pushed until the dogwood branch was in the cage. With one final shove, Celeste sank the chewed end into the brass water dish.

“Hey! That’s my drinking water!” exclaimed Cornelius.

“Keep your voice down! Now, listen. The next time Joseph starts to sketch, sit right about here,” said Celeste, pointing to a spot on the branch. “And it wouldn’t hurt if you sang something.”

“Well, pardon me for not wanting to sing day and night! Being cooped up in this cage doesn’t exactly create the proper mood!” said Cornelius, swallowing another berry.

“Just try. Strike a pose. Sing. He’ll love it.”

“Like this? You can’t be serious!” Cornelius perched on the dogwood branch and preened his primary and secondary feathers, adjusting them perfectly, and lifted his head as though to sing.

“That’s perfect. Promise me!”

“All right, all right! I promise!”

The nearby snoring stopped, and Joseph sat up. He scratched his head as he shuffled over to his desk, then let out a gasp.

“Little One!” he cried. “You came home! Where have you been?”

He gathered up Celeste and cradled her next to his cheek, stroking her and giving her tiny kisses on her ears. “I have missed you so much! You’re a brave little critter to come home to me!”

Celeste burrowed between his palms and wriggled rapturously, relishing the warmth and safety of his gentle hands. Joseph found a few peanuts for her, then slipped her into her usual spot in his shirt pocket.

Smiling, he then peered into the little wooden cage. “Good mornin’ to you, my friend!” he said to Cornelius. “Here’s a little present!” From a dish on his desk he retrieved several ripe but somewhat squished blackberries. “Here you go. Eat up!”

Cornelius eyed the berries.

“Come, my friend, you have to eat and keep up your strength. We’re counting on you for a fine painting, you know. If only I could get the background right…Hey! I see Mr. Audubon added a branch to your little home. This would make a good background for the painting.” Joseph went to the desk and gathered up some pencils.

Celeste squeaked from the shirt pocket, “Psst! Cornelius! Now’s the time!”

Cornelius hopped gracefully onto the dogwood branch, fluttering a bit. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to sing.

Out came the liquid, gurgling stream of silvery notes so sweet and fluid that Joseph dropped his pencils.

“My Lord…such music!” Joseph whispered just as Cornelius sang again. The song, a mixture of sweetness and melancholy, swirled through the room like a cool breeze.

Joseph immediately took up drawing materials again and then sat in a chair in front of the cage. This time as he worked there was no eraser needed; graceful lines of dogwood leaves flowed from his eyes and down into his hand, then out onto the paper. As Joseph worked, Cornelius lifted his head to sing again. Joseph smiled and attacked his work with even greater enthusiasm.

The paint box came out next. Soon the page was covered with the soft greens of the leaves and bright reds of the dogwood berries.

There was a knock at the door, and Audubon stepped into the room.

“Working so early, Joseph?” he asked.

“Yes, monsieur,” he replied. “The morning light and…everything…was just right.”

Audubon stood in front of the thrush painting. His brows arched up.

“Ah…Joseph. I see my instruction has inspired you. This is beautiful. Your dogwood is perfect.”

Joseph stepped back from his work. It was perfect. The wood thrush in the painting was now at home among the leaves and twigs of the dogwood tree, and Joseph could see that it was just right.

He smiled at the wood thrush. “Thank you, Mr. Thrush!” he whispered.

Celeste smiled. Her plan had worked.