By Maritta Perry Grau


They were just thinking…as they looked out the window of their family room…

What is it? PopPop and Gigi stare at the gleaming object caught on a high branch of their plum tree.

“A piece of trash?” Gigi guesses.

Gigi imagines the fierce wind blowing and the tree reaching out to grasp the shiny object.

“A bird,” says PopPop.

PopPop imagines a bird is sleeping with its head tucked under its wing, there on the branch.

“But it’s not moving at all. And it’s been in one position for a long time.” Gigi is doubtful. “That’s a very thin, fragile branch for a bird to choose for a nap. And it’s ten in the morning. They don’t usually sleep now.”

Indeed, as they speak, they see other birds flitting back and forth among the trees and bushes.

PopPop scoops up the binoculars and focuses on the oval, gleaming thing in the tree. “Or could it possibly be…?”

“What? Could it be what?” Gig looks outside, trying to see some detail on the object PopPop sees through the binoculars.

He hands her the binoculars. “You look. Tell me what you think.”

Gigi finds the object in the binoculars. “Why, it looks like…” She moves closer to the window, looks again. She studies the object carefully.

Is that an eye? Part of a mouth? Shiny skin? She checks her mental list of creatures it could be. “It looks like a fish!”

“That’s what I thought,” PopPop answers. “But how could a fish be up in the tree?”

Gigi pictures a hawk or a heron swooping down on the nearby pond and grabbing a succulent fish for his dinner.

“Did the bird catch the fish and fly off with it? And then drop it? Maybe it’s not really a fish.” She is doubtful again.

“Only one way to find out,” PopPop says.

So they go outside, their dog Maxie with them, and walk to the tree.

Looking up, closer now, they study the object again.

“Oh, it’s not a fish.” Gigi sighs in relief.

“No, it’s a seedpod,” PopPop says.

“Yes, a milkweed pod that has broken open. What I thought were the eyes and part of a mouth were just seeds near the top edge. The gleaming fish scales I thought I saw—those were just the sun shining on the silky strands of the open milkweed pod and on the inside of the open pod.”

The fish are safe for another day.