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held it up. “Looks like miso paste,” she said.
    “Do you eat miso paste?” Keisha asked.
    “We make soup with it,” Wen said.
    Whatever miso paste was, Keisha was in no hurry to try it.
    Daddy parked in the driveway.
    “Hey, I know this house,” Aaliyah said. “She’s at the community center sometimes. Moms brought her some soup. We could practice in this driveway.” Aaliyah hopped out of the truck and ran down the driveway.
    “Aaliyah, no!” Keisha was too late. Aaliyah ran right near the mailbox. The crows in the trees hub-bub-bubbed, as Razi would say, cawing loudly to each other. Two crows dove down toward Aaliyah.
    Aaliyah covered her head and ducked. “Birds, don’t mess with my braids!” She ran bent over back to the truck.
    “You silly girl. That’s what the umbrella’s for!” Grandma shouted out the window.
    “For cover,” Daddy said. “Mom, what a splendid idea.”
    “Well, if we’d had a CFC, I would have told you.” Grandma liked it best when she got to go over plans beforehand at a Carter Family Conference.
    “Is that Mrs. Sampson?” Wen asked, pointing to the lady in the window.
    Keisha nodded. Mrs. Sampson was in her same spot by the second-floor window. How much time does she spend there? Keisha wondered.
    Daddy got out of the truck and went to the front door. Keisha followed him.
    “Unplug me, Wen,” Grandma said. Wen jumped out of the truck.
    “They got their little crow toenails in my swirl!” Aaliyah said, patting the top of her head. “Moms is gonna die.”
    “It looks fine,” Wen said, helping Grandma with the seat belt. “They didn’t get that close.”
    “I felt their hot crow breath. It was like sour cherries.”
    “Where’s your crown, drama queen?” Grandma said, laughing as she scooched herself over to the open door, grabbed Wen’s hand and stepped out of the truck.
    Daddy knocked on the door and called out: “Carters’ Urban Rescue! Here about a baby crow.”
    Mrs. Sampson opened the door. “I’m old, but I’m not deaf.”
    Grandma came up the walk. “It’s me,” she said. “I’m the deaf one. He can’t adjust. Alice Carter.” She took Mrs. Sampson’s wrinkled hand in her own.
    Daddy pulled out the family card that read, WHATEVER THE DILEMMA, IF IT’S GOT FUR OR FEATHERS, THE CARTERS ARE THE ONES TO CALL ! 555-7803.
    “I understand you have a baby crow in the mailbox,” Daddy said.
    Mrs. Sampson nodded. “There was a cat. I don’t move that fast. The mailbox was the first thing I came to.”
    “This baby needs help, Mrs. Sampson. If he stays in your mailbox much longer, he’ll likely starve. We feed our baby crows every twenty minutes.”
    “Oh dear. I put some seeds in the box, but now I can’t get near it.”
    “Crow-diving is hard for the balance,” Grandma agreed.
    “But we do have a rescue plan.” Daddy glanced back at the truck, where Aaliyah was shaking her head no. “I have three strong girls here. You’ve met my daughter, Keisha. And this is our friend Wen.
    “They will transport a beach umbrella to the mailbox and I will transfer the baby to this temporary nest.” He held out the shoe box filled with shredded paper.
    “Then we can either drive him back to our place, or …” Daddy craned his long neck to see into Mrs. Sampson’s house. “We could examine him right here and begin treatment immediately.”
    Mrs. Sampson turned her head to follow Daddy’s gaze. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
    “Just a few minutes at your kitchen table will do the trick.”
    “I suppose … Better use the dining room table. There’s more light in there.”
    “Excellent.” Daddy seized the moment. “Keisha, Wen, get the umbrella. Mom, why don’t you stay here on the porch with Mrs. Sampson? There might be jostling and I notice you didn’t bring your cane.”
    “I can walk just fine without it.”
    “Maybe so, but you promised to have it with you on all rescue operations.”
    “But it’s so OL,” Grandma