BUZZARD TAMER

"What is it?" someone shouted.

"I don't know, but it sure is ugly," said another.

"I think it's a buzzard," said Tom Harding. "I'm gonna go get my BB gun!"

The crowd leaving the schoolyard was gathering across the road from the creature. It stood well over a foot tall. Its dark wings were folded in against its body, and it stood motionless out in the road. Its long neck was twisted strangely around so that its head hung upside down against its breast. The only things moving were its deep, hollow eyes. Every once in a while they blinked. The rest of the time they just stared ahead.

As Tom Harding ran off to get his BB gun, Aaron moved closer to the crowd. He wanted to get a closer look.

"Hey, here comes Preacher Boy!" blared Mike Burton.

They always picked on him because his father was a Methodist minister.

"Aaron the airhead?" said someone else. "What does he want?"

The taunts continued.

"He prob'ly wants to hang out with his buzzard buddy," said Mike. "Can't you see the resemblance?"

The whole crowd burst out laughing. Aaron's face turned red. He usually avoided the crowd. If he had not wanted to see the bird so badly he would have tried to get away. Aaron looked at the bird. It looked stunned, kind of like it was hugging itself with its wings, almost as if it was trying to hide. Aaron knew the feeling.

"Why doesn't it fly away?" said Billy.

The crowd turned away from Aaron. They were more interested in the buzzard right now. They could pick on Aaron later.

"What happened to it?" asked Jane.

"I saw what happened," said a boy named Wilson. "It almost got hit by a truck. It flew real close, and when the truck went by, wham, the wind from the truck spun it around and around till it just flopped down in the road. It hasn't moved since."

"Is it dead?" asked Jane again.

"I don't know," said Wilson. "Maybe its neck is broken."

"I think it's gonna die," said someone else.

"It will when Tom gets back," sneered Mike Burton.

They all laughed again. All except for Aaron. He was sorry for the bird. He felt like he understood it. "I wonder if we can help it," he said.

"Help it!" exclaimed Mike. "That thing would rip your fingers right off! See that beak?"

Aaron did see its long, curved, sharp-looking beak. "But maybe it needs help," he said quietly.

"Aaron, you really are an airhead," said Mike.

With that, they all started picking on Aaron again. They stripped his character amok like a buzzard would have stripped a dead carcass, bit by bit, until there was nothing left.

In response to their taunting, Aaron only moved closer to the bird.

"What are you doing?" a bunch of them shouted at once.

Aaron took a few more steps.

"You're crazy!" snapped Mike. "That thing'll eat you alive!"

Aaron eased up to the bird until he was about three steps away from it. He did not think it looked ugly. In fact, to Aaron it looked kind of majestic. He inched closer and closer to the bird. As he did, the crowd behind him grew quiet with anticipation. They were sure Aaron was going to get his fingers ripped off. Many of them relished the thought.

Aaron started talking to the bird. "You're not so bad looking."

It just blinked at him.

"Is your neck really broken?"

"If you stay out here in the road, you'll get killed for sure."

Aaron was now standing right in front of the bird, looking down at it. The bird was still motionless, its head still upside down. Aaron had never been this close to a wild animal before.

Just then, Tom Harding got back with his BB gun. Aaron knew it was now or never. He looked at the bird's beak.

"If I pick you up, you're not going to peck me, are you?"

"Oh, Lord, please protect me," Aaron whispered. Then, slowly, he bent over. And even more slowly, he reached down and put one hand on each side of its large body. Cautiously he lifted the heavy bird. With four careful steps, he carried it off the road and gently set it on the grass. Then, as soon as Aaron let go, it happened.

The others chattered in excitement.

Tom dropped his BB gun.

The buzzard unfolded his huge wings; the span of them was more than Aaron's height. Then, gracefully, majestically, it flew off into the woods.

"I . . . I can't believe it," stammered Tom.

"Aaron's a buzzard tamer!" cheered Mike.

Others responded with awe in their voices.

Aaron just stood and watched as the bird flew off. "Good-bye," he said quietly as it winged its way out of sight.

During the excitement the crowd had moved into the road closer to Aaron, to get a better view. Usually Aaron would have walked around them in order to leave. This time as Aaron turned to go, he walked straight toward them, and they, as if out of respect, parted to let him through.

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