Author: Ann Marie Bryant

The early morning air still held the cool breath of night, but the rising sun promised another warm day on the dusty mesa. Across the meadow, sheep grazed quietly while playful lambs sprang into the air, kicking and butting heads, their high-pitched bleats breaking the stillness of the morning. Nearby, the cows, freshly milked, wandered toward the pasture, flicking their tails against the first determined flies of the day.

The golden light of sunrise spilled across the rugged peak of Mount Lamborn, bathing the North Fork Valley in a soft glow.

From the chimney of a small cabin perched on Rogers Mesa, a thin ribbon of smoke curled into the sky.

Inside, the warmth of a crackling wood stove filled the kitchen as breakfast came to an end. The man of the house had already left for town, leaving the mother and her daughters to finish the morning chores. Plates clinked, and water sloshed in the dishpan as Elva set a pot to boil on the stove.

At the table sat young Dotty, the youngest, of the girls, fidgeting in her chair. Her mind was busy with a very important idea.

“Mama,” she said suddenly, her eyes shining with excitement, “can I go catch a magpie today? I want to train it and take care of it. Please?”

The family had recently lost their last pet magpie when it flew away and never returned. Dotty had not quite gotten over the loss.

More than anything, she wanted to be the one to find the next one.

Her mother smiled at her youngest daughter’s determination.

“Well,” Elva said thoughtfully, “you can go look for a bird, but only after you finish your morning chores.”

That was all Dotty needed to hear.

She shot out of her chair and raced out the door toward the chicken coop. The hens scattered and clucked indignantly as she hurried inside to gather the eggs. Only then did she realize something important.

She had forgotten the egg basket.

Dotty dashed back toward the house, but just before opening the door she stopped.

Voices drifted from inside.

Curious, she pressed her ear against the wooden frame.

It was her sister Barb.

“But Mama,” Barb protested, “I’m the oldest. I should be the one to catch the bird!”

Their mother’s voice was calm but matter-of-fact.

“Now, Barb,” she replied gently, “your sister won’t be able to catch a magpie. She’s just too little.”

Dotty’s stomach dropped.

Too little?

A hot wave of determination rushed through her.

She clenched her fists and stomped her foot silently in the dust.

I’ll show them.

Without another word, she marched back to the chicken coop.

She would finish her chores.

And she would catch a magpie.

After gathering the eggs, Dotty carefully lifted the hem of her dress, cradling the fragile shells in the folds of fabric so they wouldn’t break. Step by careful step, she carried them back to the house.

But while she walked, her mind was busy making plans.

What do I need?

A sack to carry the bird.

Food for the magpie.

And lunch… for me.

Once inside, she gently placed the eggs in a woven basket and pumped fresh water into a bowl, scrubbing the shells clean with careful hands.

When she finished, she turned toward her mother, practically bouncing.

“All done! Can I take a gunny sack and some hamburger for my magpie? And maybe a sandwich for me?”

Elva chuckled softly at her daughter’s excitement.

“Well, I suppose that sounds reasonable.”

Dotty wrapped the hamburger in a clean rag and tied the corners together before racing to the barn for a gunny sack. When she returned, her mother handed her a small brown sack containing two peach-preserve sandwiches, a shiny red apple, and a mason jar of water.

Dotty kissed her mother on the cheek and dashed out the door.

Then she skidded to a sudden stop.

Now what?

She had been so eager to start that she hadn’t actually decided where to find a magpie.

She couldn’t go back and ask now. That might make her mother change her mind about the whole adventure.

So Dotty did the only thing she could think of.

She followed the lamb.

She headed toward Mount Lamborn, where a rock formation high on the mountain resembled a standing lamb. The local sheep ranchers considered it a sign of good luck.

Today, Dotty figured she could use all the luck she could get.

Once she reached the open flatland, she spotted a small cluster of tall pine trees in the distance.

Birds live in trees, she reasoned.

The bigger the tree, the better the bird.

The sun climbed higher as she trudged across the dusty field. Heat shimmered off the ground, and the warm air wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. When thirst finally caught up with her, she unscrewed the mason jar and took a long drink.

The water was already warm. It didn’t help much.

At last, she reached the shade of the pines and dropped to the ground with a sigh, resting her back against the rough bark. She scanned the branches above her, searching for nests, but saw nothing.

Her stomach growled. She pulled out one of the peach preserve sandwiches and took a bite. The sweet sticky jam, tasted like home.

Before long, the heat, the shade, and a full belly made her eyelids heavy. Dotty drifted off to sleep beneath the trees.

When she woke, the sun had climbed even higher in the sky, and the air felt hotter than ever. Her throat was dry, and her legs were tired.

For a moment, she considered going home.

Then—

Squawk!

Dotty froze. Another sharp squawk echoed through the trees. Her heart leapt.

She followed the sound until she reached a grove of cottonwoods. There, tucked into the crook of a thick branch, sat a messy nest made of sticks and mud. Inside it squirmed a cluster of baby magpies, barely peeking over mud-covered sticks.

She had found them. Determined, Dotty tucked the gunny sack beneath her arm and began climbing. Halfway up the tree, her dress snagged on a sharp limb.

Rip.

She looked down at the torn fabric and sighed.

“Momma won’t be happy about that.”

Then—

WHOOSH!

A full-grown magpie dive-bombed her.

Dotty shrieked and clung to the tree trunk as the furious parent swooped and squawked overhead. Again and again it flew at her, wings beating the air in protest. But Dotty held her ground.

I didn’t come all this way for nothing.

Finally, the bird retreated, scolding loudly from a nearby branch, and Dotty climbed the rest of the way to the nest. Seven tiny birds stretched their necks upward, squawking hungrily. She carefully unwrapped the hamburger and offered them a small piece. They gobbled it eagerly.

After studying the little flock, she chose a plump baby bird whose dark wings shimmered blue in the sunlight. “Come here, Maggie,” she whispered.

She gently placed the bird into the gunny sack and tucked the bundle safely beneath her dress. Mission accomplished. The walk home felt like victory.

When she finally reached the ranch, her mother spotted her from across the yard and waved. But as Dotty got closer, Elva’s smile faded. Her daughter was covered in dust and scratches, and her dress hung in tatters.

“Dotty,” she said, hurrying forward. “Are you alright?”

Instead of answering, Dotty thrust the sack toward her.

“I did it!”

Elva peeked inside. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Well, I’ll be… you really did catch one.”

Dotty grinned from ear to ear.

“What are you going to name it?” Her mother asked.

“Maggie.”

Elva chuckled.

“And what if it turns out to be a boy?”

Dotty didn’t miss a beat.

“Then it’s short for Magpie.”

Her mother laughed and pulled the dusty, determined girl into a hug.

As they walked toward the barn together, Dotty chattered about the long hike, the tree, and the angry bird that tried to chase her away.

She had proven something that day.

She wasn’t too little after all.

And as Elva listened to her daughter’s breathless story, she realized something else.

Dotty may have come home with a magpie in a sack, but the real gift that day was discovering her daughter’s fearless spirit beginning to spread its wings.