Bird Catcher

Weren't librarians supposed to be mousy and dull? Michael was checking out more than his usual stack of birding books. The woman at the reference desk reminded him of a pileated woodpecker he'd seen once at Forest Park. He doubted she would appreciate being compared to a woodpecker, but her hair blazed like the flame red crest on the bird he'd only glimpsed once. She spoke with a clipped Russian accent and when she smiled his heart fluttered as fast as hummingbird wings. He found the book he'd been searching for on the computer, so what could he ask her? How does an average bearded, bespectacled biologist and free lance writer get a date with you?

Boldness wasn't his forte, patience was. Hours of sittiing in duck blinds or remote forested areas crouched, cramped and cold waiting for the perfect photograph for his next book, that was his particular talent.

"May I help you with something?" The lady asking for the location of the ship's manifests had walked away form the rare bird lady's counter and left him standing in her line of sight. There was no blind to hide behind.

"I, er, no, I don't..."

"Pardon me," she said, "but you look so familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Well, ah, I come to the library quite often."

"No, that can't be it. I just started working here this week."

He couldn't imagine ever seeing her anywhere without noticing her.

"I'm Michael Zimmerman."

"Hm-m, Michael Zimmerman, maybe you just look like someone I know."

Nondescript, yup, that was him all right.

"Maybe so," he said. He turned away and then turned back again.

"What is your name, you know, in case I make a connection?"

"Natasha Orloff." No ring on her left hand.

"Have you lived here very long?"

"Yes, my family moved to the Willamette valley in 1992 when I was ten." His brain actually still worked. She was twenty-six to his twenty-eight. He loved the way her accent turned the word family into "Fomily."

"Well, I'll probably see you here again, then."

"Yes." She smiled again and he suddenly felt too weak to carry this many books.

The library's computerized slip said his books weren't due until the 25th. He wanted to bring them back the next day. He remembered though, that birds often fly away if you are too persistant. So he plunged into his research, edited and had enormous difficulty concentrating.

He walked into the library one week early and his shoulders slumped when he saw a spiky haired brunette at the reference desk advising an older couple on where to find maps of Belgium. Where was Natasha? Had he picked the day she had off?

He kept out a sharp eye for a glint of red as he made his way to the 598 section. No sighting of her. He pulled out several books on nest building. Maybe she was on lunch break in the cafe downstairs, it was close to noon. The smell of tortilla soup met him as he walked down the stairs. Loud chattering came from the lunchroom when he looked in. He sighed and sat down at a table. Might as well have some soup and peruse his books.

He purposely walked through the main lobby on his way out. The same dark haired woman sat at the reference desk. He was just about to walk out the front door when he heard a distinct call behind him.

"Micheal, Micheal." Natasha was living proof that redheads can wear pink, especially a pink fuzzy sweater that showed off her figure.

"I figured out where I know you from. I saw your picture on the back of a book I checked out some time ago on backyard bird watching. I put up a bird feeder and I look out my window every morning before work and watch them. I have chickadees, cowbirds and a noisy one note stellar jay that I've named Rock Star."

Was it possible that she could look even prettier when she was excited?

"Ah, have you ever gone bird watching out in the woods?"

"No, but I'd love to go."

He focused and clicked on a mental picture of them hiking in a conifer forest. "I belong to a bird watching group, there's about ten of us, you would be welcome to come with us sometime."

"When?" she said.