Time to Fly Read Free Page B

contracted psittacosis.”
    â€œSit-a-what?”
    She spells it for me. “It’s a life-threatening disease. It’s so contagious that most countries have strict import laws requiring exotic birds to be quarantined for more than a month when they first enter the country, to make sure they don’t have it. It’s often called parrot fever, but parrots can pass the disease on to other bird species, such as pigeons and poultry. They can even pass it on to humans.”
    Yikes. “You mean—Pickles could give it to us?”
    Gran nods. “It’s possible, although most healthy people can fight it off even if they’re exposed. Still, we should be careful. Scrub up thoroughly before you leave, Zoe.”
    I fetch a small wire cage, line it with newspaper, and clip a water dispenser and a little feed bowl onto one side. Then I go to the sink and scrub my hands and arms all the way up to my elbows with lots of soap and hot water while Dr. Gabe puts the parrot into the cage, covers the cage with a towel, and carries it to the quarantine room.
    Suddenly the back door to the clinic flies open, and Maggie rushes into the exam room. “You guys—there’s a ton of…You won’t believe—!” She pauses and gasps for air. “Come on—you’ve got to see this!”

Chapter Three
    W e rush into the backyard. My mouth falls open as I gaze up into the oak tree. “Amazing!” I breathe.
    Brightly colored parrots perch in the branches like ornaments on a Christmas tree. There must be dozens of them, in different sizes and different colors. Some perch where we can see them, as if showing off how beautiful they are. Others hide, their green feathers blending in behind the new spring leaves.
    And the racket! I cover my ears. I bet people can hear this screeching and shrieking all over the neighborhood. Sneakers runs around yapping at the tree, as if he wants the parrots to come down and play.
    â€œBrenna!” I gasp. “Do you have your camera?”
    Brenna loves photography, and she’s taken some awesome pictures of animals. Working at Dr. Mac’s Place, she gets lots of opportunities for great animal shots, so she usually brings her camera with her.
    â€œIt’s in my backpack!” She darts back inside to get it.
    David has been trying to count the birds. “There’s got to be at least fifty of them!” he exclaims.
    â€œGran,” I ask, “where on earth did they come from?”
    â€œI’m as bowled over as you are!” she says, running a hand through her short white hair. “Pet birds escape sometimes, but this is like a whole zoo got loose!”
    I squint, looking for the friendly parrot with the blue head, the one who talked to me. “E.T.…” I call softly. “There—that’s him!” I point to a flash of blue and green that soars up out of the tree. “No, wait. His wings were different. They didn’t look that long, and he flew in a more fluttery way.”
    â€œMaybe his wings were clipped,” Gran says absently, studying the flock.
    â€œPeople clip a bird’s wings?” I ask, horrified.
    â€œJust the long wing feathers,” Gran explains. “It doesn’t hurt the bird any more than a haircut hurts you. In fact, birds can often still fly even with clipped wings, especially if the feathers have started growing back. That’s one way a pet bird can escape. Its owner takes it outside, thinking the clipped wings will keep the bird from flying, but the bird flies up into a tree and the owner can’t catch it.”
    Brenna returns with her camera and starts snapping away. I’m glad we’ll have pictures, because without them, none of the kids at school would believe this.
    â€œWhat are we going to do, Gran?” Maggie asks.
    â€œWe could open our own zoo,” David jokes. “One of those aviation—aviator—what do you call