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felt, he also suspected
they were both overreacting. "First of all, we won't be perfect parents and that's fine. Eliot doesn't need perfection. He needs the
love and guidance you've been giving him since birth. Secondly,
I've been perusing quite a few parenting books in my spare time. If
these people had their way, the three of us would be in therapy until Eliot has a family of his own! Don't buy into this insanity. Stick
to your instincts-you, we will figure out what's best for our son."
    "There's something else you should know," Jane added reluctantly. "Eliot's been having nightmares about dead animals. Someone played a really cruel practical joke on us before we left for
Nashville and it's affected him more than I'd realized."
    James brushed aside the pile of job applications and sat forward in his chair. "What kind of joke?"
    Clearly, Jane was reluctant to speak of it, but after some coaxing she gave in. "Someone put a dead robin in our mailbox. Probably a disgruntled student. You remember what it was like during
midterm exams. Between all the overnight cram sessions and cans
of Red Bull, the kids can lose their heads. Didn't a freshman student vandalize your car with shaving cream?"
    Recalling the words, "Professor Puff Sucks!" written across his
windshield as though it were yesterday, James muttered something
unintelligible.

    "Unfortunately, Eliot was expecting his Big Backyards magazine and so he ended up opening the mailbox," Jane continued.
"The bird was way in the back, but when he pulled out the magazine and the usual stack of junk mail, the body fell right on his
chest. I've never heard such a scream."
    James shook his head in dismay. "Poor little guy. That would
have spooked most adults."
"
    I know, but after Fay Sunray's comments about animals, whatever they were, I think Eliot now has this illogical fear that they'll
come after him if he eats them." She made a growling noise. "You
know, if I had a backstage pass to the next Fay Sunray Show I'd
choke her with her own guitar strings. Child entertainers should
leave their personal platforms out of their performances. I don't
care how noble the cause!"
    The parents discussed their son's meal selections for the weekend and then said their goodbyes. James stuck the sheaf of job
applications into a folder, dropped it into his desk drawer, and
sighed.
    Change is never easy, he thought.
    That night, he had his own frightening dream about birds.
These were not robins, like the stiff red and blue body Eliot pulled
from the mailbox, but black crows with malicious eyes and sharp,
hooked beaks. Gathered on a leafless tree at the far end of the front
yard, they suddenly flew at him en masse, forming an ominous
cloud of shadows and feathers. Their caws grew louder and more
aggressive as they raced toward him through the purple night sky.
James' dream self darted inside his house and slammed the front
door. Terrified, he scuttled down the hallway to his bedroom, hop ing to draw the curtains before the crows could reach his window,
but just as his fingers closed on the cotton drapes, the impact of a
dozen beaks smashing into the glass made him cry out in terror.

    James bolted awake in his bed, his heart drumming in his
chest. He glanced nervously at the window, but exhaled in relief as
he realized the rapping on the glass was merely raindrops and not
a murder of hostile crows.
    The spring storm persisted for most of Friday, but by Saturday
morning, the sun was bathing the Shenandoah Valley in warmth.
The flowers James had planted the week before had produced new
buds and were inviting the attentions of honeybees, monarch butterflies, and hummingbirds. Squirrels chattered at him from their
nests in the dogwood tree while he swept the front walk and raked
stray leaves and pine needles from the lush grass.
    After his outdoor chores were done, James took a shower and
settled in front of the computer with a large glass of iced tea. He
went to