Chapter 17: Of Theaters and Birds

Laura Dell paced around the room. She looked at her clock, which blinked 7:41. She sat down and waited, trying not to wrinkle her black pleated skirt. “How silly am I,” she said to herself while one idle hand twirled a few strands of hair, “that I worry about wrinkles forming on a skirt that’s made to look wrinkled?”

Laura Dell lifted her legs to examine her black, low heeled pumps. A friend had once told her they were sometimes called court shoes, and it had given Laura Dell a regal feeling, but now she wondered if they matched her outfit. She sighed and looked at the clock once more. It was 7:42.

She stood up and went and checked herself in the mirror. “Of course they match,” she said. “And they fit, too. Nice and modest. Herbert will like them.” She smiled at herself in the mirror, but then threw her hands up in the air. “Ah! I sound like my mother.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Laura Dell checked the clock once more as she walked to the door. It was still 7:42. “Plenty of time,” she thought.

She reached out and unlocked the door, and when she looked out, she found Herbert standing there, short top hat, black tuxedo, and all, leaning on his cane. She had imagined him in the outfit, but had not expected to see him as such.

Herbert smiled as he looked at her. “Never are enough chances to wear one of these,” he said. Then he looked down at his clothing and back to Laura Dell with a raised eyebrow. “It isn’t stained, is it?”

Laura Dell looked up from his tuxedo. “What? No, why?” she replied.

Herbert grinned. “You were staring,” he said. “Come now. Surely you’ve seen a man in a tuxedo before. But really, Miss Dell, we should hurry.” He picked up his cane and tipped his hat to her. “The taxi cab took a little while longer to acquire than I originally thought. Shall we?” He offered her his arm, which she took as she blushed.

When they reached the “cab,” Laura Dell stared once more. Herbert, on the other hand, laughed. “Really, Laura, I fail to believe that you’ve never seen a limousine, either.” The chauffer opened the rear door for them. “Now you see why I was so late.” The two quickly took their seats and were off to the theater.

***

Laura Dell and Herbert Walters exited the theater after the show arm-in-arm.
“It was lovely,” said Laura Dell as the two walked through the crowd to their limousine. “I’ve never been to a theater so grand before. Back in Siloam, we don’t even have a movie theater, let alone a place for performance. Unless, of course, it’s in the Siloam Baptist Church. But that’s nothing compared to the Chicago Theatre.”

Herbert, as usual, smiled. “Yes, it is quite a venue. It rivals any theater on Broadway, although I imagine the content of the shows here are much different than those found in the Siloam Baptist Church.” The two arrived at the limousine and seated themselves inside, where in Herbert told the driver to “drive to the wonderful Miss Laura Dell’s palace” before turning back to Laura Dell.
“Now tell me, Laura, what did you think of the musical?”

Laura Dell collected her thoughts. “The sets were amazing. The costumes were wonderful. The singing was magnificent. Without even talking about the story, it’s already great.” She grinned. “What did you think, Herbert?”

Herbert nodded for a moment, furrowing his brows and looking out the window in playful consideration. “Hmm. Well,” he began his reply, looking back to Laura Dell and winking, “it is historically inaccurate, of course.” He chuckled as Laura Dell swatted at his shoulder.

“Oh, come on Herbert. It wasn’t the museum. It was a musical in a theatre. Of course it was inaccurate. You can’t compare a musical to the truth. They’re just for fun. How else would you explain Cats?”

“Now Miss Dell,” Herbert said in mock surprise. “I thought you said there was no theater in Siloam, Alabama.”

Laura Dell grinned. “Just because there isn’t a theater in Siloam doesn’t mean I never went to one before.” Her expression changed as she blushed slightly and turned to look out the window. “I just wanted you to learn a little more about where I come from, is all.”

Herbert nodded. “Siloam, Alabama. First sighted during the Cretaceous period, the Siloamus alabamius was said to be—”

“Herbert!” cried Laura Dell in between fits of laughter. Herbert joined her in the act. The two continued their conversation until they had arrived at Laura Dell’s apartment.

Ever trapped in a perpetual grin for the remainder of the evening, Laura Dell finally climbed out of the limousine when it pulled up before her apartment. Herbert followed her example and left the confines of the limousine, taking the opportunity to walk her back to her door.

“Thank you for a wonderful time Herbert,” said Laura Dell, twirling a piece of hair with her finger.

“Nonsense. It is I who should be thanking you. Or really, we should be thanking your brother. Without his help, we would have had no tickets, and would have had to go to another bar, or listen to Feinman babbling on about the cleanliness of a screw head.” Herbert placed special emphasis on the last word.

Laura Dell smiled. “Well, hopefully, between straightening everything and trying to catch our little dinosaur, I’ll get to see you tomorrow.”

Herbert nodded his consent. “I’m sure I’ll be there with Sue. After all, old birds of a feather flock together. But speaking of your problem, I am not sure why it did not occur to me before, what with my ties to the Chicago Ornithological Society, but I may have a solution for you to try. Tomorrow, I’ll bring two of my colleagues, and we shall go about solving this bird issue.”

“Thank you, Herbert. I’ll look forward to it.” The two embraced each other. “Have a good night, Herbert.”

“Have a good night, Laura.” They let go, and Herbert walked back to the limosine while Laura Dell unlocked and entered her apartment.

***

The following morning, Laura Dell arrived early at work to find Feinman, Herbert, and two young men (by comparison, as they were in their late thirties) carrying duffle bags standing outside the museum as though they were waiting for someone. She could hear Feinman’s voice as she approached.

“Absolutely not. I will not hear of it. No, no, no, no, no.”

“But Dr. Feinman, really, it will be completely unobtrusive to your visitors. In fact, many will actually enjoy seeing this activity take place.” It was Herbert who made the reply. Laura Dell gave him a questioning look as she walked up the steps towards them.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she approached.

Feinman glared at her. “Did you tell him he could do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

One of the younger men spoke up. “Mist netting,” he said, holding up a duffle bag.

“What’s mist netting?” Laura Dell asked, looking back and forth between the group, giving them all a very quizzical look.

Herbert cleared his throat. “The solution to your,” he turned and looked at Feinman for a moment before turning back to Laura Dell, “and Dr. Feinman’s little bird problem. You see, it’s a process in which you place a mist net made of nylon to capture birds. Usually, you use a large piece of net, but we would use smaller pieces to, as I have assured Dr. Feinman, not distract the visitors from the exhibits.”

The other of the two younger men spoke at this point. “You have to have a license in order to conduct such an operation as this, as well as trained personnel in order to extract the bird from the netting without causing any undue harm. With such personnel, mist netting is the most effective way of capturing birds without exterminating them in the process.”

“Which is why our good Dr. Feinman was just about to agree to let us set up shop, so to speak,” said Herbert. “After all, it’s the most effective way.”

Feinman’s eyes burned holes into Herbert’s back as he grumbled, “Fine. Do it.” He turned to Laura Dell. “But you had better construct careful signs of apology concerning the obtrusive nature of such an event, and place them with the utmost visibility where ever these nets are placed. And then you will stand between such signs and personally apologize to every visitor who looks at the nets.” With that, Feinman turned and marched into the Museum.

One of the two men turned to the other and asked, “I wonder what crawled up his ass and died?” The other man chuckled. Meanwhile, Laura Dell smiled at Herbert.

“Well, you weren’t kidding about solving the bird problem. But how did you manage to do it so quickly?” she asked him.

“When I arrived home last night, I sent an e-mail to the current head of the Society. It’s amazing, really, how quickly it all works. But, I suppose, that is the ever changing role of nature. One moment, Sue walks the earth. The next, humans communicate instantly about bird catching via e-mail. Regardless, I received a most helpful reply early this morning, and now here we are.” He leaned forward on his cane. “Now, let’s go find Eddie. He’ll help us set up before the visitors arrive.”