That thought made her mood sour despite the beauty of the venerable groves and soon she was just slogging along in a funk, not really paying attention to her surroundings at all. Just as she was sinking into a really bad mood Gerbald let out the low whistle that meant "Look at that," one of the signals they had developed in their years spent birdwatching in the wilds of the Thuringerwald. Pam froze, carefully scanning the tree limbs for a choice specimen. Gerbald gave her a nudge with his elbow and pointed downward with a small movement of his head.
Pam followed his gaze to a large, odd-looking bird standing just six feet away from them. It had sturdy yellow legs and cracked a nut with its grotesquely large and powerful bill. The bird regarded them calmly with a bright yellow eye turreted in a beak that covered nearly all of its head. Overall it was awkwardly-shaped and a bit comical looking, with fluffy white tufts of feathers puffing out at its tiny wings and arched tail, just as it was in all the illustrations she had seen. It stood a bit more upright and was slightly thinner than it had been portrayed in art. Pam's eyes were wide as she marveled at the living creature here, its breath moving the downy gray feathers of its chest, its ponderous beak clacking softly as it swallowed the nut. It was the strangest bird she had ever seen, a bird she had once never hoped to see, a bird lost forever in her former world. It was the poster child of the doomed and extinct, now, now alive right in front of her stood the dodo.
The three of them stood there for a very long time, content to stare at each other. At last the dodo gave them a dismissive coo (just like a dove!) and dipped its plated head to search for another nut. It found one and the powerful beak anchored on its large skull effortlessly crushed the shell with a satisfying crack, sending the meat down the gullet. Pam felt her face grow hot and wet, she was crying, crying the tears of joy a child might if through some happy magic she found herself in the living presence of a real Santa Claus, stepped out of the chimneys of legend in jolly flesh and blood.
"It's so ugly!" she said softly with a laugh in her voice "And it's also the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" She took Gerbald's hand for confidence, then together they took first one, then another step closer to the dodo, which simply ignored them as it continued its nut-cracking. At last Pam reached out with trembling fingers to gently touch the downy gray feathers. "It's real." she whispered. "This is really happening." She gasped as she saw two more dodos foraging nearby, blithely paying no attention whatsoever to the humans among them.
"Congratulations, Pam," Gerbald told her in the solemn tones of one who has witnessed something wonderful. "Now we know they still live and our sacrifices were not in vain. One way or another we will find a way to save the dodo. Your mission will be a success, Pam, I swear this."
Chapter Nineteen: Dodo Do's and Don'ts
The news of Pam finally meeting the elusive dodos face to face was met with cheers back at the camp. The sailors understood that finding those odd birds was very important to her and to their princess even if they were still a bit cloudy on why. They offered whatever services they could give in supporting Pam's efforts to study the dodo although Pam couldn't think of much they could do beyond the daily task of making sure they had enough food. Pam knew that the men were growing more and more frustrated with their isolation. She realized they were keeping quiet about it in order to give her time to study the dodos now that she had found them, waiting for her to satisfy her needs before making any attempts to leave their encampment in search of the colonists and possible escape from the island. For her part, Pam felt guilty at letting her desire to observe the dodo supersede looking for the very likely captured colonists, but it was a guilt she decided she would accept, just for a while. They had, after all, come all this way! Rationalizations well in hand, Pam and Gerbald marched off into the woods daily, enjoying their prize.
Pam was in a state of bliss as she began her studies. It was as if some beloved cartoon characters from her childhood had come to magical life before her eyes, going about their daily habits for her sheer joy and entertainment. She sometimes shook her head in wonder that she was actually seeing living, breathing dodos. Finally, something good about time travel! Following quietly along behind the humorously waddling creatures Pam observed their behavior with delight. Their rare cries reminded Pam of young geese and they also chuckled to themselves while foraging, a sound much like a pigeon makes. Increasingly Pam thought they might be descended from or perhaps cousins of pigeons.
"Pam, are the dodos eating pebbles?" Gerbald asked, no longer bothering to whisper as the dodos completely ignored their presence. As long as they didn't make too many sudden movements the dodos were unconcerned at having large primates in their midst.
"They don't actually eat them, they swallow them down into their gullet to help digestion. The stones aid in grinding up the food, making it easier to digest," Pam answered, watching a young specimen in hot pursuit of a stumbling beetle.
"I should try that the next time we have dried squid," Gerbald mused.
The dodos could move surprisingly quickly in pursuit of scuttling prey. Like many bird species they were opportunists, consuming whatever they could manage to get their ponderous beaks around. A sudden lunge and the dodo's sharp bill might snap up a juicy frog or wriggling worm. Pam was sure that amazing appendage could deliver a nasty wound if a dodo was provoked and stayed well clear of it, always moving calmly and not getting too near its business end. As far as the dodos were concerned, Pam thought they must consider her and Gerbald tremendous bores. They were ignored totally as the clucking, contented dodos went about their endless and not too difficult search for food.
Gerbald managed to find out just how powerful those beaks could be when he accidentally stumbled through a dodo nest. The nest was a rather unimpressive shallow depression dug in the mulchy forest floor, lined with a bit of down and twigs, but it was home to a magnificent white egg as big as softball. The mother of said egg, who was eating some nuts nearby, let out a shockingly loud whistle like a kettle on the boil and charged Gerbald with credible speed, her beak clacking loudly and gray, downy feathers fluffed out to give her a more menacing appearance. She was a lot larger than a turkey if not nearly as big as an ostrich and her head rose nearly to his abdomen. Gerbald shouted "Yikes," one of his many American TV-isms, and backpedaled away from the angry creature.
Pam watched all this from the safety of a nearby tree. As soon as the ruckus started she had gone up the nearest one, standard procedure for non-climbing critter attacks in the Thuringerwald, good for wild dogs and boars but not much help against bears. As Gerbald turned to break into a run the outraged mother stretched her neck out farther than Pam would have guessed possible and closed sharply around his booted ankle. Gerbald yelped even louder, then managed to shake the dodo loose with a twist. Pam thought that the bill's sharp tip might have pierced the leather. The dodo seemed satisfied at having exacted her toll in flesh and doubled back to make a big scene of stalking around the nest while squawking loudly, a clear message that anyone else wishing to disturb it was going to get the same thing that guy had. By now Gerbald himself was up a tree, massaging his ankle.