Lina Fixes the Birdfeeder

The birdfeeder fell off the apple tree in the wind.

It made a small sad clatter on the path. The seeds spilled. The little roof of it cracked along one side.

Grandfather looked out the window and sighed.

"I'll fix it tomorrow," he said. "Or the next day. My back hurts today."

Lina was five. She had been watching the birds at that feeder all summer. She knew the chubby grey one. She knew the brown one with the white spot on its head. She knew the family of finches that came at four o'clock.

Lina had a plan.

She got the small wooden stool from under the kitchen table.

She got the roll of garden wire from the shed, the green one, that Grandfather called "the always-useful wire."

She got the screwdriver. The little one, with the blue handle.

She went to the apple tree.

The birdfeeder was on the path, looking embarrassed. Lina picked it up. The roof was a bit cracked. She thought about it.

She got Grandfather's old roll of brown tape, the strong one, from the workshop.

She climbed onto the stool, very slowly, holding the post of the apple tree. She used the wire to twist the top of the birdfeeder back to the branch. She wrapped the wire round and round, the way she had seen Grandfather do.

She taped the roof. The tape held.

She filled the seed dish from the bag in the shed.

She climbed down off the stool.

She went and got Grandfather.

"I fixed it," said Lina.
Grandfather walked outside, slowly. He looked at the birdfeeder. The wire was a little crooked. The tape was visible. But the birdfeeder was up. The seeds were in. The chubby grey bird had already noticed.

"Lina," said Grandfather, in a voice that meant he was about to cry but didn't want to, "that is excellent work."

"You said it was important. So I did it carefully."

He nodded. He couldn't say anything for a moment.

Later, when the chubby grey bird was eating, Grandfather sat with Lina on the bench. They watched together.

"Thank you," he said, eventually.

"Anytime," said Lina, who meant it.