Soon after the DNA lab results on the feather came back to the Avian Slaughter Task Force, Special Investigator Clayton Yonder’s supervisor scheduled a press conference for the following Sunday morning. By then, he figured, they would have gathered enough data about the movement, spread, and destructive patterns of the (newly named) Terror Bird to impart valuable information.

A secondary purpose of that press conference would be to enlist the public’s help. What did you see? Where did you see it? What was it doing? How many were there? Can you describe them? And … it would be enormously helpful if you could take photos or videos of what you saw.

Most importantly: This is a deadly creature. Do not attempt to approach, confine, or kill it on your own.

The press conference would be held in the ballroom of a beautiful mansion that had been turned into a museum at Gossamer Gardens. There would be only two speakers. The first: Jules Landau, Clayton Yonder’s (my boyfriend’s) boss. The second: Clay himself, who had been so busy helping Jules to prepare for the presentation that he’d had no time to tell me what to expect.

Despite Archie the Giant Chickadee urgently imploring me to sneak him into the press conference under my raincoat (I had absolutely NO intention of wearing a raincoat!), we both knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. In fact, we had this conversation before I departed.

“You’re getting melodramatic in your old age, Archie. Not only would it be dangerous for you to go outside, we both know perfectly well that hiding you under a raincoat would be about as subtle as wearing clown makeup to a debutant’s ball.”

Archie had the good grace to blush. Or, what I took for as a blush on a beachball-sized chickadee.

So, all eight of my bird and bug friends – Archie and Daffney, the big and little chickadees; Rochester and Stella, the pretty, oversized goldfinches; Nigel and Gwyndolyn, the equally pretty and large tufted titmouses; Florence, the itty, bitty swan; and Byron, the love-sick (according to Clay) dragonfly – stayed at home to pace, grind their teeth, bite their nails, or whatever else animate beings do when they are nervously awaiting good or bad news.

How does one dress when she is about to attend a meeting that will affect the lives of so many vulnerable and innocent avian (and other!) friends?

Silly question, right?

Aah. You aren’t taking into account one relevant fact: I may be literate, curious, productive, imaginative, and on rare occasions, even, brave. But I am also a girl-type person. And I am vain. The man I loved (and still love) was going to be a speaker at a Very Important Event. He may not have cared what others thought of me or how I looked (actually, he cared a lot). But I did.

Accompanied by the female members of our contingent (Stella, Gwyndolyn, Florence, and Daffney), I retired to my bedroom and with their help – one can easily interpret approbative and disapprobative twitters – I ransacked my closet, and decided on what I called my “ballet dancer incognito” outfit. Long, slim black leggings. Black ballet flats. And a red cowl-neck angora sweater (late October weather can be chilly). I wore my long black hair in a tight French twist, and for a finishing touch, huge petal-tassel red earrings on my ears. I checked myself in front of the mirror at all angles to make sure that nothing was out of place.

I may not have looked like a gender-study activist or an ecologist’s wife (not wearing earth shoes and flannel underwear), but I did look tres chic.

A quick cup of coffee … a leftover bagel from the morning before … and I was out the door.

When Special Investigator Clayton Boyfriend told me that his boss planned to publicly thank me for my contributions thus far to the investigation, I begged him to please, please, please keep my name out of it. Clay promised that he would. And since he knew I would be there, I didn’t feel compelled to sit near the front of the room. Rows and rows of folding chairs had been set up. All were occupied by reporters, tv journalists, camera operators, and the like … bustling with energy and curiosity, and speculating among themselves as to the purpose of the event.

I had read the National Park Service press release, and I found it both vague and compelling, with a subject line that referenced an: URGENT MATTER REGARDING AN INVASIVE SPECIES ENDANGERING WILDLIFE, WITH A PARTICULAR EMPHASIS ON THE MUTILATION AND MURDER OF SONGBIRDS.

I mean … who wouldn’t come to a press conference after receiving a message like that?

There was one last empty chair beside the double doors leading into the ballroom, and I quickly took it before the doors shut. Then I heard a wordless vibrato emanating from the microphone on the dais. After a brief introduction, Jules Landau, Field Commander of the Park Department’s Criminal Investigative Division, tapped his microphone with a fingernail, and began to speak.

It wasn’t a very long speech, so I can record it verbatim.

“Ladies and gentlemen. It is with both gratitude and regret that I welcome you today to this beautiful ballroom, which the kind folks at Gossamer Gardens have invited us to use. Gratitude because you cared enough to come. Regret because we are here for a truly terrible reason.

“Before you sat, you will have noticed a ten-page printout on your chair. Please feel free to consult the photographs and lists on those sheets as I discuss the threat that we are facing. On the last page of that document, you will see short biographies of me and Special Investigator Clayton Yonder, who leads our Avian Slaughter Task Force, and who will be briefing you on certain aspects of his investigation after I talk. Time permitting, he will take a few questions.

“Speaking of which, your time is valuable, and so is mine. So, I’ll jump right in.

“On Wednesday, October 8th of this year, approximately three weeks ago, on the grounds of these very same Gossamer Gardens, a visitor alerted a guest services employee that she had seen a dead Baltimore Oriole in a drinking fountain next to the gazebo overlooking Wellspring Pond. By the end of that day, another 20 dead birds, ranging from sparrows to robins to wrens and chickadees had been spotted and reported. All had broken necks, and none had been eaten.

“Within three days, which brings us to October 11th, an additional 617 bird slaughters were reported. During that time, no predators were observed. However, dead mammals and reptiles began to appear beneath tulip poplar, oak, Beech, and spruce trees. These included squirrels, mice, voles, frogs, snakes, rabbits, and opossums.

“By the end of that seven-day period, which brought us to Tuesday, October 14th, not a bird or a small animal could be found anywhere in all 980 acres of Gossamer Gardens. Even the turtles, racoons, and chipmunks had disappeared. As a result, since mid-October, this beautiful wildlife sanctuary has been closed.

“Up until the following day, which was Wednesday, October 15th, we had no clues about what bloodthirsty predators were at work. However, on that day, 23 miles northeast of here, a young lady to whom we are very grateful, and who chooses to remain anonymous, observed a menacing creature – her words -- flying overhead. Not only did she have the presence of mind to acquire a feather that had fallen from it out of the sky, she also gave that feather to one of our investigators. As an added and invaluable benefit, she was able to drawn what she had seen. If you look on page 2 of the information packet you found on your chair, you will see her drawing.

“This, basically, was our first break in the case. And this is where I will turn over the podium to Special Investigator Clayton Yonder. As I mentioned earlier, Clay is leading the Avian Slaughter Task Force, and will give you details of what we are up against.

“Clay … it’s all yours.”

Copyright © Shelly Reuben, 2026. Shelly Reuben’s books have been nominated for Edgar, Prometheus, and Falcon awards. For more about her writing, visit www.shellyreuben.com.