Dr. Tessa's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

Dr. Tessa Shortfeather pressed her palm against the glass observation wall and grinned. Inside the enclosure, three rainbow lorikeets fought over a feeder while a sulphur-crested cockatoo—Nigel—strutted across a branch like he owned the place. This conservation center was good, maybe even great, but it wasn't enough. Not for what she wanted to build. The world's most comprehensive research center for bird conservation would need better equipment, more space, and funding that didn't run out every fiscal year. She tapped her notebook three times against her leg—her own signal that meant no, not yet, not good enough—and watched Nigel dance on his perch. He knew something was coming. So did she. The observation tower plans were spread across her desk when she got back to the lab. Wooden railings, glass-enclosed top, panoramic views of the migration routes overhead. She traced the sketch with one finger. This would let her track populations moving through, record patterns the crows hadn't shown her yet. Nigel landed on the blueprints and tapped twice with his beak. She laughed. "Not asking your permission, mate." But she was showing off a little, and they both knew it. The woodland pond was her favorite part of the design. Ducks would come—mallards, wood ducks, maybe even the rare freckled variety she'd read about. A family of them gliding across still water while she sat ten feet away with her camera. No glass walls. No enclosures. Just birds being birds, close enough to count their feathers. She'd already picked the spot, measured the depth, calculated the drainage. Dr. Martinez would call it obsessive. Tessa called it thorough. The research station sketches made her chest tight. She held up the drawing—wooden frame, metal roof, windows that wrapped around the observation wing. This would be headquarters. The place where every bird conservation program in the world would want to partner. Where the lyrebird data would finally make sense, where the crow experiments could expand, where Nigel could retire in style. She pinned it above her desk and stepped back. The dream was taking shape, one structure at a time. Now she just had to build it.