The Crow's Collection

Mags was a crow who loved shiny things more than anything else in the whole wide world.

More than worms. More than breadcrumbs. More than the warm updraft of wind that lifted her over the rooftops of Mossy Hollow on summer mornings.

Shiny things were her everything.

Her nest sat high in the old oak tree at the edge of the park, and it was not like other crows' nests. Oh no. Mags's nest glittered and winked and sparkled in the sunlight like a tiny treasure chest. She had a bottle cap that caught the moonlight. A bit of green glass, smooth as a river stone. A zipper pull. A gum wrapper twisted into a little silver rose. A brass button with an anchor on it. And her newest, most prized treasure of all — a small golden locket on a thin golden chain.

She had found it that very morning, lying in the grass near the playground bench. It had caught the light and flashed at her like it was calling her name.

"Ooooh," Mags had whispered, hopping closer. "Oh, oh, oh. You're the shiniest shiny I've ever seen."

She had snatched it up in her beak, flapped her wings, and carried it all the way home.

Now she sat in her nest, turning the locket over and over with her claw. The gold was warm. It had a little clasp on the side. Mags tried to open it, but her claws were too clumsy. She didn't mind. She didn't need to see inside. She just needed to see the outside — that beautiful, glowing, perfect gold.

"Best day," Mags declared to nobody. "Best day ever."

The next morning, Mags flew her usual route over the park. She liked to check the benches, the fountain, the edges of the walking path — anywhere shiny things might appear.

But today, something was different.

A girl was sitting on the playground bench. The same bench where Mags had found the locket. The girl had brown hair in two braids, muddy rain boots, and a face that looked like it was trying very hard not to cry.

She was looking under the bench. Behind the bench. Around the bench. In the grass, on her hands and knees.

"It has to be here," the girl muttered. "It has to be."

An older woman came walking over. "Lily, sweetheart, we've looked three times now."

"But Grandma gave it to me," Lily said, and now her voice wobbled like a bridge in a storm. "She said it was her mother's, and her mother's mother's before that. She said I was big enough to take care of it. And I lost it."

One tear rolled down her cheek. Then another.

Mags tilted her head from her branch.

"It's a locket, Grandma's locket, and it has the tiny picture inside — the one of Grandma when she was little…"

Mags felt something uncomfortable poke at her chest. Like swallowing a seed the wrong way.

She ruffled her feathers and looked away.

Not my problem, she told herself. I found it fair and square. Finders keepers. That's the crow way.

She flew home and landed in her nest and stared at the locket.

It was still golden. Still shiny. Still the most beautiful thing in her collection.

But now it looked a little different.

Now, when Mags gazed at it, she didn't just see shiny. She saw the girl's face. The wobbly voice. The muddy knees from searching in the grass.

"Stop it," Mags told the locket. "You're mine now."

The locket said nothing, because it was a locket. But it seemed to gleam a little less brightly.

That night, Mags couldn't sleep.

She rearranged her treasures. She put the locket on the left side of the nest. Then the right. Then she tucked it underneath the green glass and the bottle cap so she couldn't see it at all.

But she could still feel it there. Heavy and warm, like a little golden heartbeat.

She thought about the girl saying, "She said I was big enough to take care of it."

Mags groaned and buried her head under her wing.

The next morning, she flew back to the park.

She told herself she was just checking for new shiny things. That was all. Just a regular Tuesday morning treasure patrol.

But her wings carried her straight to the playground bench.

Lily was there again. This time she wasn't searching. She was just sitting, staring at her rain boots, her shoulders slumped like two little hills after a landslide.

Mags landed on the back of the bench. The locket was clutched in her claw.

Lily didn't notice. She sniffled quietly.

Mags hopped a little closer.

Just drop it and fly away, she told herself. Quick. Easy. Don't think about it.

But her claw wouldn't open.

This was the shiniest thing she had EVER found. The crown jewel of her collection. If she gave it back, her nest would just be... a nest with a bottle cap and some green glass and a gum wrapper.

Mags looked at the locket.

She looked at the girl.

She looked at the locket.

The girl.

The locket.

Mags let out a long, dramatic sigh that ruffled all her chest feathers.

She hopped right onto the bench, two little crow hops, and set the locket down next to Lily's hand.

Tink.

Lily blinked. She looked down.

Her eyes went wide — so wide that Mags could see the sky reflected in them.

"My locket!" Lily gasped. She scooped it up and held it against her heart. "My locket! But — but how —"

She looked at Mags.

Mags looked at Lily.

For one long moment, the crow and the girl just stared at each other.

"Did you have it?" Lily whispered.

Mags cocked her head to the side, the way crows do.

Lily opened the locket with her thumbnail. Inside, there was a tiny photograph of a little girl with a big smile, wearing a dress with a lace collar. Lily touched the picture gently with her fingertip.

"That's my grandma," she said to Mags. "When she was six. Just like me."

Mags peered at the tiny photograph. It wasn't shiny at all. Just a small, faded, brownish picture of a smiling girl.

But the way Lily looked at it — like it was the most precious thing in the entire universe — Mags understood something. Some things were more than shiny. Some things held people inside them. Memories. Love. Things you couldn't find lying in the grass.

Lily reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a fruit snack wrapper. It was red and crinkly and caught the light.

"Here," she said, holding it out to Mags. "For you. A trade."

Mags eyed the wrapper. It WAS quite crinkly. And it DID catch the light rather nicely.

She took it in her beak.

"Thank you, crow," Lily said softly. Then she smiled — a huge, beaming, sunshine-breaking-through-the-clouds kind of smile. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Mags puffed up her feathers proudly, turned around, and launched herself into the sky with her new crinkly treasure.

Back in her nest, Mags placed the fruit snack wrapper right in the center of her collection, in the spot where the locket used to be.

Was it as shiny as the locket? No.

Was it as golden and glowing and beautiful? Absolutely not.

But every time Mags looked at it, she remembered the girl's smile — that huge, bright, wonderful smile — and something warm spread through her feathery chest. Warmer than gold. Warmer than sunlight on her wings.

She had a bottle cap. A bit of green glass. A zipper pull. A gum wrapper twisted into a silver rose. A brass button with an anchor on it. And a crinkly red fruit snack wrapper that was, in its own special way, the most valuable thing she'd ever owned.

"Best day," Mags declared to nobody.

And she meant it.