Chapter Four
The answer came the next day when I least expected it, and in the form of a blind date, of all things. Starsky’s girlfriend, Terry, worked with a lady who had recently gone through a messy breakup. Fortunately for me, this happened almost half a year ago, and she was just now getting back into the dating game. I was grateful some time had passed, because the last thing I wanted was to be somebody’s first “rebound date.” Those tended to be anything but enjoyable, spending most of the date listening to the woman either tearing apart her former boyfriend, or crying over him. Usually, I ended up being the perfect gentleman and listening patiently until she ran out of steam—which typically happened long after I did—then taking her home and never seeing her again.
It turned out that Terry’s friend, Tamara, taught part-time at the Marshall School for Exceptional Children while working on her Ph.D. at UCLA. If nothing else, I was hoping she’d turn out to be an interesting conversationalist over dinner, which would be Friday night.
The rest of the week passed uneventfully, and the incident with Mac was never spoken of again. Well, actually, I did try to bring it up once, but Starsky’s response was simply, “Mac said it was no big deal, right? So, don’t make a big deal out of it.”
But it was a big deal, and we both knew it.
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Tamara was everything I had hoped for and more as a dinner companion, and she wasn’t too hard on the eyes, either. Starsky even seemed to enjoy himself and relax a little in Terry’s presence. We ended up at Huggy’s for drinks and a round of darts, and between games, I asked Tamara more about her studies. It turns out she was doing a research project at UCLA, in conjunction with Cal Fish and Game.
“You mentioned that you were a biology major—what’s your field of study?”
“Ornithology. I’m researching the eagle population here in southern California and the effects of pesticides and other chemicals on them. How they affect everything from their nesting and migration, to their eating and mating habits.”
“One of my favorite subjects,” Starsky piped in, as he and Terry returned from the bar with the next round. No one bothered to ask him to clarify, but Terry dug her elbow into Starsky’s ribs. He just smiled wickedly and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh before including Tamara and me. “What were we talking about?”
“Eagles, actually, you hedonist.” I took two beers from Starsky’s grip and handed one to Tamara. “Ignore him. I have to have him back to the home for perverts by eleven o’clock.”
Starsky took a drink of his beer, but not before murmuring, “Yeah? And who do you think has the room next to mine?”
My dirty look had no effect on him.
“Tell them about your helping out with their rescue work, Tamara,” Terry prompted.
That sounded intriguing. “Rescue work?”
Tamara shrugged her shoulders modestly, but instantly warmed up to the topic. “It’s really incredible. Rewarding. Each year, there are hundreds of birds of prey that are injured or become sick. There’s a team that works with different agencies throughout the state to rescue the birds, give them medical treatment, and then work to release them back into their native environments. Or, on occasion, if they’re beyond being able to care for themselves, they’re introduced to a bird sanctuary or zoo.”
I glanced at my partner. He was still smiling, encouraging Tamara as she continued extolling their efforts, but I could see the slight tightening of his jaw, the tension around his mouth.
“…well, have you?” I missed the remainder of Tamara’s recitation and question.
“What? I’m sorry, have I what?”
“Seen an eagle up close and personal?”
“Well, no, I can’t say that I have. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting since it’s a nice night we take a short drive out to the campus. What do you say?”
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It was longer than a “short drive” over to UCLA, but the company was pleasant. Every now and then I’d glance at Starsky, who wore his affable expression like a mask. He only made eye contact with me once, and gave me a look that told me not to worry. Just the fact that he had to tell me not to worry was enough cause to make me worry.
Even though we didn’t get to the university until almost midnight, the security guard didn’t think twice about letting us through the gate, once he recognized Tamara. The Biology Department was quite a distance from the main campus, and in addition to the offices and classrooms, there were several aviaries of varying sizes and form, specific to the type of birds they housed. Between the cages, ran a walkway, lit by a string of outdoor lights and the aid of a full moon. It could have made for a very romantic stroll if I hadn’t found the framework of the cages casting a sinister shadow before us. I knew Starsky was feeling the same way.
We followed Tamara as she pointed out the different species in each cage, their ailments, and what treatments were being followed. The birds were in assorted stages of healing¾everything from accidental poisonings, to being shot by poachers. Some looked to be in perfect health to my inexperienced eye, while others appeared to be without hope. Hearing story after story of how the birds came to be in their conditions infuriated me.
I kept a close watch on Starsky. At times, his focus left the cages’ occupants and latched on to the cages themselves. I was grateful the aviaries were much larger than the one he’d been bound in, perhaps softening the blow of his being there. Still, I hoped seeing these might take the edge off some of what’s been eating him up inside for the last month, and help him move on.
At first, he kept himself and Terry back from being as close to the cages as Tamara and I were, telling Terry, “You never know when one of those big guys is going to make a break for it.” She smiled and acquiesced, but I knew she could tell something was wrong. After a while, she moved closer to get a better look at a red tail hawk, but Starsky stayed a few steps behind.
When the women moved ahead to the next cage, I waited for Starsky and walked beside him. “You okay?”
He gave me one of his “try-to-fake-out-Hutch-that-everything’s-fine” expressions. “Why wouldn’t I¾”
I sighed. “Give me some credit, Starsk. I know¾”
“Well, if you know, then why ask?”
He lucked out that the ladies came within earshot before I threatened to kick his butt. He was exasperating at best some times. Starsky moved right up to the next cage, as if to prove his point that he was fine. He put his arm around Terry and peered into the cage.
The eagle was magnificent. Maybe regal is the only word that comes close to describing him. He flew the short distance from one perch to the next, putting as much space between himself and us as he could. He looked healthy and I said as much.
Tamara nodded. “He is—now. He sure wasn’t when he came to us a few months ago. We named him ‘Hercules,’ because he’s such a big guy. Some kids had shot him with a pellet rifle over in the canyon. Typically, that wouldn’t have hurt a bird this size, except they were at a fairly close range, which is quite unusual, and they hit him by chance in the wing, breaking some of the smaller bones. You wouldn’t think it would have had that much effect on him, but it messed up his mobility. We were able to get to him and actually set the bones.”
“You’re kidding!” This, from Starsky. “How’d you manage to get a little cast on him?”
Tamara laughed, thinking Starsky was making a joke. I’m not so sure he was. “So, what happens to Hercules now?”
“He’ll be released back into his natural habitat in a couple of weeks. It’s really amazing to see.”
“What about this one?” I hadn’t noticed that Starsky had wandered up to the last cage. It looked identical to the one we were at, but the eagle within was a polar opposite of Hercules. I followed the ladies over, and Tamara grimaced. “This poor guy. We didn’t think he was going to make it. Would you believe he got clipped by a semi?”
I could believe it. This eagle was missing feathers in several areas, and the flesh beneath was scarred from healed wounds. His color even seemed to be less vibrant than Hercules’s and, instead of moving away from our approach he remained still, almost brooding.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Starsky move closer to the cage, actually placing a hand—though hesitantly—on the mesh enclosure and peering in at the still form. “What’s the matter with him? Is he still hurt?”
“His breaks and contusions have all healed, actually. He’s just not responding well.”
“How long has he been here?” I asked.
“About four months now.”
Starsky turned his focus back on Tamara. “Can’t you let him go?”
She shook her head. “My professor’s pretty much decided he won’t be released. I think he’s just not ready yet. But from what I understand, the tests are indicating that Rod just can’t make it on his own anymore.”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. “Rod? As in ‘Rodney’?”
Tamara smiled and shook her head. “Short for ‘Nimrod,’ you know, the¾”
“Mighty Hunter,” Starsky finished. Terry and I both looked at him in mild surprise. He turned back toward the eagle. “Genesis. So, if you don’t let him go, what happens to him?”
“He’ll be cared for. The university has a pretty good relationship with some of the zoos in the area. It’s not the ideal solution, but he’ll be okay.”
“But never free.” It was barely a whisper, but I was close enough to Starsky to hear it. In comparison to the other eagle, this one seemed like a shell of what it once was—what, perhaps, it could be again.
When Tamara moved in closer to me, I asked her the question I knew Starsky was thinking, too. “What happens if you were to release him and he wasn’t ready?”
Tamara sighed. “Well, unfortunately, he wouldn’t adapt back to his environment. He wouldn’t be like he was before—able to hunt, able to care for himself. If that’s the case, and we’re lucky, we can recapture him and then…well, then he’d have to stay in captivity. But if we can’t get to him…”
The unspoken reality hung around us for a moment. Starsky walked around the cage to get a better look at the sullen bird. Nimrod never moved, though I imagine he followed Starsky’s trek. Starsky’s voice was hushed. “Do you think he’s just forgotten?”
“Forgotten what, Dave?”
I had to strain to hear his response. “How to fly. What it feels like to be free.”
Tamara shrugged, but her expression was thoughtful. I glanced at Terry, and I’m sure the concern in her eyes mirrored my own. I don’t know how much Starsky had shared with her about what happened while he was held hostage, or what he was still struggling with, but she knew enough to be anxious for him.
“I don’t know, Dave. I mean, flying’s an instinct, so is hunting, but sometimes there’s so much damage…there’s a lot we just don’t know.”
We were all quiet again for a long moment, but Terry had the good sense to break it. She slipped under Starsky’s arm and wrapped her own around his waist. “Dave, I’m surprised you’re still on your feet. It’s been at least an hour since we last fed you.”
I chuckled. Boy, does she know my partner. I offered Tamara my arm, and she accepted it, and the four of us started back down the path. I stopped and turned around when I heard Terry ask Starsky, “What is it?” He was just straightening from where he had bent over to pick something up—an eagle’s feather, fallen from one of the cages. Tamara smiled and gave my arm a little tug, urging us forward.
I glanced back at Terry and Starsky trailing behind us, walking quietly as they enjoyed the moonlight. I wondered what Starsky was thinking as he stared at the sky, the eagle feather still in his hand.
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We got called in to work on Saturday because of a breaking case. Starsky was late coming down to my car as usual, so I let myself in to his apartment to help speed things along. I wasn’t surprised to see a half-eaten box of donuts sitting next to the coffee maker, which was nearly empty. Detective that I am, I figured he’d already drank it all, which meant another rough night.
“Starsk? Shake a leg or Dobey’s going to have our butts in a sling!” I yelled as I made my way to his bedroom. Starsky emerged from the bathroom, shirtless, his belt undone, and his hair dripping wet. Foam covered most of his mouth as he rapidly brushed his teeth, giving me a “one minute” finger before disappearing back into the bathroom.
I looked around the room, exasperated. The bed was unmade and torn apart, looking like it had hosted a wrestling match. But what kept my attention was the eagle feather he’d found last night, now next to the alarm clock, looking well handled.
Starsky emerged from the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he went, and charged into the living room to find his shoes.
I gave the feather one last glance as I left the room, wondering for the hundredth time what it felt like to be bound to a cage.
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