Meanwhile, Lafayette struggled with his passenger. Trixie was absorbed in screaming directions and was completely oblivious to the beauty of the awakening landscape.

“You’re going too fast!” Trixie screamed up to him. “You’re going too high! And don’t flap so hard…. Feathers make me sneeze, you know!”

They approached the river. A thick, silvery, early-morning mist blanketed it.

“Where’s the river?” hollered Trixie. She shifted and twisted in the basket, squirming in an attempt at being comfortable in the tiny space.

“It’s right below us!” Lafayette called back. “We’re almost exactly over the middle of the river, ma’am. This is the widest point for miles. Sorry about the mist; makes it kind of hard to see much; but it’s mighty pretty anyway, don’t you think?”

The morning sun was catching the tips of the clouds, making the higher puffs pink and gold and orange.

“I don’t see what all the excitement is about,” replied Trixie. “This basket is too cramped. And I’m feeling a little queasy. This flying business is for the birds!”

“Want me to turn around?”

“Yes, I want you to turn around! Take me home. I need to lie down. Celeste better have breakfast ready when I get there.”

“Poor Celeste…” Lafayette mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing, ma’am. I’m just gonna turn to head back.” And with that Lafayette gently banked his wings, and the pair headed toward the rising sun.

“Hurry up!” Trixie yelled. “It’s getting past my breakfast time.”

To emphasize her point she yanked sharply on the gondola strap.

“But, ma’am, don’t you want to ride up along the river a bit? The fog will rise soon, and you’ll have quite a view.”

“I said, Hurry up! I’m hungry! The only view I want is of a plate full of food!”

With that she gave the strap another hard yank. In an instant, one end snapped, and the basket almost fell away completely. Trixie scrambled and clawed but could not grasp the strap soon enough. She plummeted down, grabbing at air, disappearing into the river mist like a rock tossed into a muddy pond.

Lafayette felt himself lift and bob upward, surprised by the sudden drop in weight.

“What the…Miss Trixie?” he called out as he looked down and saw only the dangling basket.

“Miss Trixie! Oh, holy crawdad! Miss Trixie!” he called again and again, circling and fanning out above the mist. He swooped down, gliding just over the surface of the water, but heard no cries, saw no splashing.

Trixie was gone.

It seemed like hours before Celeste at last saw Lafayette’s silhouette against the midmorning sun. She squinted; it looked as if the osprey was flying very fast, faster than she had seen him fly before. And the basket: It was dangling and fluttering below Lafayette…and it was empty.

Celeste raced back and forth across the sill. “What happened? Where’s Trixie?”

“Darlin’, it just happened. Weren’t nobody’s fault, ’cept maybe Miss Trixie’s for eatin’ more than she ought’n to have. But she pulled on the basket handle, and one end broke, and down she went, right smack dab into the river. I went lookin’ for her, up and down the river, lookin’ at where the currents might have taken her; but…I’m terribly sorry, sweetheart, about your loss; but that’s how it happened. I’m afraid Miss Trixie won’t be comin’ back.”