Author and Columnist Shelly Reuben

When Special Agent Clayton Yonder came to my house at noon for lunch, it was so, so nice to be able to shut out the world, if only for a few hours. We knew that he would be briefing us on the horrific escalation of Terror Bird attacks, but we managed to avoid the topic as we ate. We, being our usual bird and bug contingent of Stella and Rochester, the blindingly beautiful goldfinches; Nigel and Gwendolyn, the soft-spoken tufted titmouses; Florence, the teeny, tiny swan; Byron, the infatuated dragonfly (Clay was certain that he had a crush on me); and Daffney, the normal-sized chickadee with the backward knees.

Last, but hardly least, was Archie the Giant Chickadee, affectionately observing the members of his “mixed flock” – which, of course, included me and Clay – from the comfort of his mantel over the fireplace.

In case you forgot, I met Rochester, Stella, Nigel, and Gwendolyn outside the very same MRI clinic where Archie mysteriously had been expanded to the size of a beach ball. Our new friends, we soon discovered (except for Florence), also had grown, and were now about the dimensions of a cantaloupe. Which is much, much bigger than normal-sized chickadees. Since size would become central to Clay’s forthcoming military campaign, the importance of these transformations will soon become relevant.

As the leader of a mixed-flock during a once-in-a-lifetime emergency, it was hugely advantageous to Archie that he was bigger than the birds under his command. Queen Elizabeth II of England once said that she wore big, outrageous hats to the many formal occasions at which she was the honoree, because then her subjects could locate her easily in a crowd.

Archie’s size during combat would be his “big, outrageous hat.”

Rochester, Stella, Nigel, and Gwendolyn, also oversized, looked – and learned to act (they were quick studies) – like the leaders they were soon to become. It was not only important that they be larger than their troops, but also, for the duration, that they be Larger than Life, too. The survival of their species, not to mention the survival of the free world, depended on it.

Byron, Florence, and Daffney also would have vitally important roles to play. Be patient, and that, too, will be revealed (I intone, as if I were Houdini announcing a magic trick!)

But first, I want to update you on the contents of the Avian Slaughter Task Force report. Terror Birds, they learned, had established five new outposts within a 50-mile circumference of Park Department Headquarters. In each location, small animals had been butchered and partially eaten, and songbirds were found strewn about with broken necks and severed spines.

Not in huge quantities. Yet. Just 10 or 12 in each place. But enough to suggest that the invasive hybrid predators had found new hunting grounds, and were digging in for a long stay. The five locations were: The Pickerel Lagoons. The Southland Elementary School. The Rock Haven Theater. The Glencoe Beach. And the Kings County Zoo.

Now I’ll tell you a little about each.

THE PICKEREL LAGOON started out as swampland, but during FDR’s New Deal, became a Civilian Conservation Corps project that evolved into a 189-acre nature preserve. Unfortunately, with all of its lush foliage, wetlands, and wildlife, it is also a perfect hiding place and killing field for Terror Birds.

SOUTHLAND ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. I actually went there as a child, and have fond memories of participating in the Thanksgiving parade costumed as an orange gourd, although I was far more fetching in our Spring Pageant as a Pink Tulip (I had seven petals, whereas all of the other tulips only had six). If you departed for home after school out the side door – as I always did – the path for your “short cut” winds through a magical wood with little streams, child-sized bridges, and bevies of beautiful birds.

THE ROCK HAVEN THEATER. A popular amphitheater seating 500 (very expensive seasonal tickets) that attracts virtuoso pianists, violinists, opera divas, country western and Broadway singers, etc. It is surrounded by a five-acre pine forest populated with now-threatened wildlife.

THE GLENCOE BEACH: A sandy few acres for children and their families to frolic during summer months, with a rickety wood pier, a beach house (to change into bathing suits), and … stretching out from either side of the beach … miles of hawthorn, cedar, and crabapple trees growing out of rocky cliffs, creating perfect aeries for invading predatory birds.

THE KINGS COUNTY ZOO: A pocket-sized haven about a thousand feet from the Idlewild River, featuring small animals like sheep, pandas, flamingos, sloths, lemurs, eagles (wounded and rehabilitated), titi monkeys, anteaters, porcupines, and egrets. Between the zoo and the river are hundreds of magnificent cherry trees, glorious in bloom, and excellent as hiding places for malicious winged-carnivores.

After Special Investigator Clayton Yonder finished describing the Terror Birds’ new crime scenes, he unfolded a large blueprint-sized diagram on my dining room table. All of our bird and bug friends alighted on the table (with Byron, as usual, hovering overhead), and … one at a time, Clay dropped a forefinger to each location – circled in red – so that we could see where it was in relationship to the other sites.

It was instantly obvious that all five formed a circle, with National Park Service headquarters at its hub.

“Do you think that’s intentional?” I asked.

“I think everything they do it intentional,” Clay responded.

“Intentional as in embedded in their DNA?” I persisted. “Like salmon swimming upstream or swallows returning to Capistrano?”

“No. Intentional as in operating under the auspices of depraved sociopaths like Atilla the Hun. Genghis Kahn. Or Stalin.”

I leaned back in my chair. Stunned.

Clay went on.

“They’re probably the same criminal masterminds who hybridized Terror Birds from the DNA of sub-Saharan shrikes and secretary birds. Then they weaponized them and smuggled them in from Africa. Once here, they transported them to Gossamer Gardens to mature, breed, and begin their homicidal rampage.”

At this point, Archie the Giant Chickadee hopped to the center of the blueprint on the table. He lifted his head toward Clay, and interjecting himself into the conversation, asked, “Are we talking about just one smuggler of one Terror Bird, or one smuggler and one Terror Bird for each of their five new hideouts?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you guess?” Archie persisted.

Clay scratched his ear. Then he shook his head. “I can’t guess. But I think that we should plan for the worst.”

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