Chapter Two: Dr. Walters

Laura Dell felt as if the dark clouds followed in her wake as she walked backed to the Museum after lunch. The sun had bathed the museum throughout the morning, as Laura Dell had finished her rounds of the museum and set to sorting inventory for a new exhibit. It had been present on her walk to the Corner Bakery, conveying whatever minute warmth managed to penetrate the wind. But with every step of her return trip, the temperature seemed to plummet another degree; Laura Dell sensed that this must be the calm before the snowstorm she had heard described by some of the older interns. It would be the first time since she was eight years old that she had seen snow fall.

Siloam is familiar with all types of precipitation, rain is common and sleet and hail are consequences of the thunderstorms that tear across the state with some frequency, but snow in Siloam was like a myth. But in the winter of 1982, the stars aligned to grant the greatest wish of children everywhere in the South, and snow began to fall from the sky. She and John William had ignored the panicked run for milk and bread that seemed to occupy everyone over the age of eighteen; instead, seized the tops of their garbage cans and headed for the hill that sloped off behind the church. The entire town joined them there as they frolicked out in the miracle of winter.

The first flakes began to fall as Laura Dell was opening the door to the Museum, unable to resist, she turned within the doorframe to view the flakes that began erase the distinction in the city around her. A chirp above her head startled her, and she looked up in time to see a tiny bird fly into the museum, seeking shelter from the biting wind. Swiftly closing the door, Laura’s eyes followed the bird as is it swooped in and out the arches, looking for something familiar on which to land. Finding nothing, it instead sought height as its refuge, landing upon the hips of Sue.

Laura Dell sensed eyes on her, shivering in response; she sought the origin of the sensation, and found it in the form of her boss, Mr. Feinman. His hand beckoned her over in a sharp movement.

“Ms. Dell, do you realize that there is a small bird perched on top of Sue?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“I realize that you have only been with us three days, but we do not tolerate live animals within the museum. Have you any idea the damage that bird could inflict upon Sue? Its droppings could compromise the remaining structure of her skeleton. People are here to see preserved history, not a silly bird. Get rid of that bird before it becomes any more of a spectacle.”

“Yes, sir.”

Laura Dell walked around the base of Sue seeking an inconspicuous solution, instead finding, to her surprise, the older gentleman from earlier still sitting in the presence of Sue. After standing with him this morning, Laura Dell had asked Eddie about him. Eddie was almost as permanent an exhibit as Sue was at the Field Museum. He had been at the museum for over twenty years and knew everyone on staff and most of the regular visitors. Eddie told her that he usually came in several times a week. Most times, Eddie said, he just takes a seat on the bench by Sue, studying not only Sue, but the tourists as well. He never brought anyone with him, Eddie speculated that he was a bachelor, but he didn’t really know, and he always carried a notebook.

He seemed fascinated by the bird’s presence, perhaps amused by the contradiction of the small bird, whose ruffled feathers made it resemble an inverted cotton boll, atop the fossilized bone. He was writing in his little leather notebook, Laura Dell imagined he was commenting on this juxtaposition of life and death, of soft and hard.

As she continued to circle, she, like everyone else, became entranced by the magnitude of the theropod fossil. For Laura Dell, it revealed that the sparrow was safe from the malicious intent of Mr. Fienman. It’s scale rendered Laura Dell ineffectual to the museum, but Laura Dell felt grateful for this insurmountable obstacle. She could not help but sympathize with the little bird, it seemed impossible that the little sparrow would be able to survive amidst the callous and isolating weather of the Chicago winter.

A loud bang startled her out of her thoughts. It also started the sparrow, who took flight with an indignant chirp as it disappeared through an archway above. Laura and everyone else within Stanley Field Hall searched for its source. She located it in the old man she had been watching all day, who was picking up his cane with a sheepish expression.

“Sorry folks, not used to this fool cane yet,” he said to everyone around him.

Laura Dell approached him, feeling a sense of gratitude for the man who had solved her problem so innocently. “Can I do anything to help you sir?”

“Did the trick, didn’t it?” He asked, his eyes sparkling as John William’s did whenever he felt he had gotten away with some mischief.

“I’m sorry?”

“The sparrow’s off your dinosaur. That’s what you were after, yes? You were circling Sue with the expression of a predator looking for its best angle,” he said, a wry smile transforming his face, removing any trace of a docile old man.

“We didn’t want a little sparrow to distract people from the exhibits within the museum. They have come to see the wonders of life that went extinct sixty five million years ago, not a sparrow that they can see any day of the week. But thank you for your assistance; I did need to get the sparrow off of the exhibit.” Turning, Laura Dell began to walk back to the service desk to see if there had been any more deliveries for the new exhibit. She was troubled at how easily her answer had come to her and how much it resembled Mr. Feinman’s statements from earlier. She wanted to distance herself from the situation, but his voice forced her to turn back.

“You know they are still alive today,” he said, gesturing at the theropod with his cane, even as he stared at it.

Laura Dell had only been working at the museum for a few days, but had already been asked this question in one form or another a hundred times. But it usually came from the children, who believed in everything they saw and whose eyes and mouths always rounded out at the sight of Sue. “Jurrasic Park was just a movie sir. There are no living members of Dinosauria, most species died out around 65 million years ago, becoming extinct shortly thereafter.”

“You must be one of the new interns,” he declared, still staring at Sue.

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought so. I’ve never seen you here before, so you must be new. Here through June, I would guess?”

“Yes, sir. Unless they decide to offer me a job.”

“That idea is a hope perpetrated by all the interns; it’s as much of a myth as those depicted in that movie.” He finally looked away from the fossil to look Laura Dell in the eye. “But I have a feeling about you.” Using his regained cane as leverage, he stood up, extending his hand towards Laura Dell, “Herbert Walters.”

“Laura Dell.”

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you Ms. Laura Dell.”

“Mr. Walters-“

“Dr. Walters, got my doctorate in ornithology at the University of Texas, then moved up here, probably before you were born, to run the Chicago Ornithological Society.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Walters, but I do need to get back to work. Mr. Feinman has me working to catalog the inventory for the new exhibit.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way then, but remember, dinosaurs aren’t extinct. They live among us now but in a smaller, feathered frame like that song sparrow that’s been flying around the museum, who I assume is trying to take shelter from the snow storm. That tiny sparrow is a living descendent of that theropod over there. Always reminds me that even things we think of as insignificant can have impressive histories.” He donned his gloves, coat, scarf, and hat, which he then tipped at her, and holding the cane more than using it, strolled out the doors into the snow.

She watched him go, disappearing into the swirling snow. Only at his disappearance did it occur to her to ask him what he saw in her.