“I can’t get over the flamingos,” Nick said.
“I know. Me neither,” Adrienne said. “I always think of them being tropical creatures.” She glanced at the tour book they’d picked up at the airport. “It would be amazing if we could see their mating ritual, but according to this, it’s really unlikely. Seems they like their privacy.”
“I get that,” Nick said, his gaze leaving the narrow track of road and sweeping over the undulating, barren terrain.
“What are you going to sing at the preserve?” Adrienne asked.
“‘Birdland’?”
“Like from Manhattan Transfer? That’s a change for you, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Sing it with me?”
“I don’t know the words!”
“Just repeat after me.” Nick loved listening to Adrienne sing. She didn’t have a strong voice, but it was clear, sweet, and naturally high—all adjectives that could be used to describe her as well as her voice.
Anger and frustration rushed through him. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, wondering how long he could perpetuate this charade. He poured his heart into the song, singing one line at a time, listening to her echo before providing the next line. Slowly, they pieced the song together, an awkward duet in the beginning, but by the end, they were belting out the words and even occasionally harmonizing.
If only life could be as easy as a song.
Nick pulled the car into the nearly deserted gravel parking lot. A wooden fence surrounded the heath. They hadn’t walked very far along the trail before Adrienne clutched his arm. “Oh look! There’s one!”
A black and white penguin stood on a small bluff staring at them.
Adrienne dug her camera out of her bag to take his picture. “This might be the only one we see,” she told Nick.
He waited while she snapped about ten photos of the patient bird. The creature stood so regally, it was almost as if he were posing.
They followed the path to the top of the hill where they both hesitated, overcome by the sight of hundreds of penguins. The birds paid the human visitors little attention, but waddled around, doing their thing.
“Amazing,” Adrienne breathed.
“Yes,” Nick agreed. He loved the expression on her face much more than he appreciated the birds.
They stayed on the path, wandering through the bluffs and tufts of tall grass. After a short distance, they found a bench overlooking the beach and sat to watch. Nick drew his guitar case onto his lap, unlatched it, and pulled out the instrument. He tuned the strings and plucked out a tune.
One penguin let out a squawk.
Nick twisted around to look at the bird as it stood on a small rise, barking.
Adrienne laughed. “That sound is why they’re nicknamed jackass penguins.”
Nick’s hand hovered over the guitar. “He doesn’t like my music.”
“Don’t take it personally.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” Nick grumbled as the bird continued to complain.
Suddenly, hundreds of birds began to bark.
“Oh look.” Adrienne pointed at the water. “I think they’re calling their mates. See, the other penguins are returning.”
Nick laughed. “I think it’s the changing of the babysitters.”
“It’s so cool that they just know what to do,” Adrienne said. The tone in her voice made Nick wonder if she was like him, wishing someone would hand out a guidebook on where to go next.
“I can’t sing with all this noise,” he said.
