Kelly Jacqueline - Who Gives a Hoot?: Calpurnia Tate, Girl Vet

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For animal lovers everywhere

Calpurnia, Granddaddy called up from the bottom of the stairs, are you ready? The barometer predicts a fine day for us.

Yessir! Coming! I knew we could count on the barometer on the library wall; it was never wrong. I grabbed my butterfly net and ran downstairs at top speed. It was October 1, 1901, and we were going to spend the day floating down the San Marcos River in our boat. Now, boat makes it sound rather grand, but it was really only a leaky old rowboat barely big enough for the two of us and our gear. This was fine with me, as I didnt want any of my six brothers coming with us. Can you imagine being the only girl right in the middle of six brothers? Ugh, the burdens I have to bear.

Anyway, I called our vessel the Beagle in honor of the ship Mr. Darwin sailed in. For five years, he traveled around the world collecting fossils and bottled beasts and dried flowers from far-off lands. Granddaddy was the captain of our Beagle , which was only fitting, as he was older than me and had also been a captain during the War Between the States. His job as captain was to row, although hed let me row if I wanted to. (Let me tell you, its harder than it looks. The first time I tried it, I flipped straight over on my back like a click beetle.)

I was the first mate. My job was to scoop out the water that kept seeping into the bottom of the boat, threatening our equipment and our boots. This bilgewater kept me busy. I also took notes in my Scientific Notebook of the plants and animalsflora and faunawe discussed on the way. One of the nicest things about a rowboat is that you sit facing each other, which makes it easy to talk.

Even though our vessel wasnt much to look at, and even though my bailing tool was only a rusty bucket, and even though the quiet river we floated along wasnt much more than a stream, I always felt we were setting off in a grand barque with three tall masts and yards of flapping sails, plunging through the white-tipped waves, the salt spray in our faces. And every one of our voyages was a grand adventure to parts unknown. Never mind that we had to turn around at the second bridge to make it home in time for dinner.

We untied our boat and set off. A few inches of mist hung above the water so that we seemed to be rowing through the clouds. Every now and then, a fish jumped and made a faint splash.

Where shall we sail today, Calpurnia?

I thought about it and said, How about the Canary Islands? Or maybe Patagonia? What about Tasmania?

All fine destinations, he said, pulling on the oars. Ill let you decide.

I was mulling it over, when suddenly a small, silvery fish leaped from the water and landed in the bottom of our boat.

Look! I said. Id never seen this happen before, and I stared at the fish in surprise. It appeared to be a small perch or fountain darter. I grabbed at it, but twice it wriggled from my grasp. I got it on the third try and flipped it over the side, where it quickly swam away.

Granddaddy said, Perhaps we should choose South America today. It was there that Darwin first saw flying fish. They do not actually fly by flapping their fins, but jump from the water at high speed and glide above it to escape predators. They can stay in the air for half a minute and travel amazing distances, several hundred yards at a time. Its quite a sight, especially when a whole school of them launch themselves at once.

Then lets go to South America today in honor of our own flying fish, I said.

Granddaddy rowed, the oars creaked, and in between taking notes, I bailed water and imagined a whole bunch of flying fish skimming their way down the river, more like a flock of birds than a school of fish. That would be something.

Granddaddy hummed some Mozart, which he did when he was happy. It was a piece my piano teacher, Miss Brown, had forced me to learn, so I chimed in from time to time. We sounded quite good together. But then a mockingbird burst into joyful song and put our paltry human efforts to shame.

Ah, said Granddaddy, the Mimus polyglottos , or many-tongued mimic. How lucky we are to have it sing us on our way.

The mockingbird lived up to its name by first running through imitations of the robin and blue jay and owl. Then it launched into songs of its own, wild and exuberant. If youve never heard a mockingbird, I hope youll be lucky enough to hear one soon. It will mimic anything and everythingbarking dogs, ringing bells, creaking doorsmix it all together in a new song, and sing the results as loud as it can.

As he rowed, Granddaddy pointed out some likely spots for hunting fossils. Wed had a heavy rain three days before, which had washed away parts of the riverbank, thus exposing treasures that had remained hidden for millions of years. Sometimes wed also find arrowheads left behind by the bloodthirsty Comanche who had hunted here for centuries before being driven onto the reservation in the Oklahoma Territory.

Granddaddy pointed at the bank and said, Theres a new area of exposed sedimentary rock. That looks promising.

We beached the Beagle and set to work on the outcropping, Granddaddy gently tapping with a small hammer while I brushed away the chips and dust with a soft brush. He stopped after a few minutes and pointed at the rock.

Look, he said, do you see that?

I looked but could see nothing special. Uh, no.

Take the hammer and this chisel. Tap here first, and then here, but not too hard. You want to try to get it out intact.

I still didnt know what it was, but I followed his instructions, chipping away and doing my best to be careful. Slowly, a shape emergeda rounded piece of rock.

Can you tell what it is yet? said Granddaddy.

I stared at it. The rock looked coiled and ribbed. Oh, I think its an ammonite!

Id been hoping to find one of my own to match the one in Granddaddys collection. His was the size of a dinner plate. This one looked smaller, about the size of a saucer, but just as nice and detailed.

I worked away, slowly freeing the once-living creature from the rock, while Granddaddy told me about ammonites, a kind of mollusk that had lived in the ocean millions of years ago.

It looks like the nautilus shell in the library, I said.

Indeed. The nautilus is the ammonites closest living relative, followed by the clam and the oyster.