“What do we do? We can’t let them cut it down if there’s something in there, can we?” Just destroy someone’s home like that? With them in it?

Leo’s father frowned. “Wait here,” he said.

A minute later he came back with the old wooden ladder from the garage. The same one Leo’s mother used to paint his room when he decided yellow wasn’t his favorite color anymore and that gray better suited his personality. Dr. Fender set the ladder as close as he could. “Do me a favor and keep it steady.”

Leo took hold of the ladder’s legs with both hands and squinted up into the sun. There were a few birds perched on the tree in the neighbor’s yard just across the fence. One of them might be the owner of this ramshackle house. Leo wondered what she must be thinking—to have this giant creature invading her space like this, without warning, without permission. If there were eggs inside would she try to defend them? Would she swoop down on Leo’s father and peck at his head, attempt to buffet him off the ladder, risking her life for her babies? Or would she fly away, abandoning her unborn chicks, dooming them to die alone? It was a terrible thought, but Leo couldn’t stop himself from thinking it.

“What do you see?” Leo called up, but his father didn’t answer. He leaned over, steadying himself with one hand against the branch, the other gently shoveling beneath the pile of roughly woven twigs and stems. Dr. Fender took the steps slowly, careful not to drop his prize.

Back on solid ground he showed the nest to Leo. It was empty. No eggs. No chicks. The home was still under construction. A work in progress. “We got lucky,” his father said.

Leo didn’t want to point out that they were still going to lose the tree—and that a full nest would have kept it from being cut down. “What do we do with it?”

“I’ll try to relocate it—probably in that maple over there. But odds are the momma bird will just abandon it and build a new one. Maybe some other bird will use it, or pillage it for material. Either way it won’t be for nothing.”

He watched his father carefully carry the nest to the corner of the yard where the maple—somehow impervious to the xenoblight—was proudly flaunting its branches full of rich green leaves. He reached for the highest branch he could, tucking the would-be home safely against the trunk. It was visible to Leo—but he, of course, knew exactly where to look. The nest’s builder might never find it. Just imagine, he thought, flying off somewhere and coming back to find the home you left behind is no longer there. Just imagine having to start over from scratch.

He hoped she would see it. Hoped she would find the new spot to her liking. Hoped to look out several weeks from now and spot the sharp beaks of fuzzy-headed nestlings calling for their momma. She would hear them. She would come to them. She would feed them and keep them warm. She wouldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves.