Hello, Crow. Candace Savage
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H
E
L O
,
CR
W!
by CANDACE SAVAGE
illustrated by CHELSEA O’BYRNE
GREYSTONE BOOKS VANCOUVER / BERKELEY
H
E
L O
,
CR
W!
by CANDACE SAVAGE
illustrated by CHELSEA O’BYRNE
GREYSTONE BOOKS VANCOUVER / BERKELEY
Franny was a dreamer.
That’s what her dad said.
A dreamer didn’t think about what
she was doing and left things in a mess.
“If only you would learn to pay attention,”
he said. “What am I going to do with you,
my Franny Featherhead?”
Franny was a dreamer.
That’s what her dad said.
A dreamer didn’t think about what
she was doing and left things in a mess.
“If only you would learn to pay attention,”
he said. “What am I going to do with you,
my Franny Featherhead?”
But Franny
was
paying attention.
She was watching the shadows of the tree
outside the window dance around the room.
She was listening to the cries of the birds
in the branches, calling her to come
outside, into the big, wild world.
But Franny
was
paying attention.
She was watching the shadows of the tree
outside the window dance around the room.
She was listening to the cries of the birds
in the branches, calling her to come
outside, into the big, wild world.
“Here you go,” her dad said with a sigh and kissed the
top of her head. “A little something for your adventure.”
Franny skipped down the steps and into the bright morning air.
Every bug, every leaf, every petal was shimmering with wonder.
“Here you go,” her dad said with a sigh and kissed the
top of her head. “A little something for your adventure.”
Franny skipped down the steps and into the bright morning air.
Every bug, every leaf, every petal was shimmering with wonder.
After a while, she sat on her favorite
rock and started to eat her lunch.
Crumbs went flying in every direction,
but she didn’t notice them. She was
too busy watching the big, black bird
that was coming toward her.
The bird kept waddling closer:
Hop, hop, stop.
Hop, hop.
Whenever he stopped, he tilted
his head and looked at Franny.
He looked at the crumbs
around her feet.
Closer he hopped,
and closer.
After a while, she sat on her favorite
rock and started to eat her lunch.
Crumbs went flying in every direction,
but she didn’t notice them. She was
too busy watching the big, black bird
that was coming toward her.
The bird kept waddling closer:
Hop, hop, stop.
Hop, hop.
Whenever he stopped, he tilted
his head and looked at Franny.
He looked at the crumbs
around her feet.
Closer he hopped,
and closer.
When the crow had poked and prodded in the grass and
eaten every last crumb, he fixed one round eye on Franny
and gave her a little nod.
Then, with a rush of rustling feathers, he leaped into
the sky and was gone.
Franny sat completely still. She hardly dared to breathe.
He was so close she could have reached over and touched
his wings, but she didn’t.
“Hello, Crow,” she whispered, because she knew that’s who he was.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
When the crow had poked and prodded in the grass and
eaten every last crumb, he fixed one round eye on Franny
and gave her a little nod.
Then, with a rush of rustling feathers, he leaped into
the sky and was gone.
Franny