JAMIE

The surprise of caring for a strange animal is jovially chronicled in this sweet intergenerational offering. On a dark and stormy evening, a featherless chicken appears on Jamie and Grandfather’s doorstep. They invite the bird in and warm him before the fire (drawn by Jarrett in waxy crayon comfort). They name him Thomas—a name inspired by Jamie’s train set—and tuck him in him for the night in a pair of Jamie’s old jumpers. The next day they bring Thomas to the vet, in an office filled with vats and jars enough to resemble an alchemist’s, and then on to the feed store, with its overflowing shelves and bags of seed—all conveying a sense of rural plenitude and the wisdom of the ages. Thomas is full of beans—getting in the butter, leaving droppings everywhere, sitting on Grandfather’s head in the middle of the night—so he is built his own caravan to live in. The next time Jamie returns to visit with Grandfather, Thomas has sprouted a fine set of feathers and—surprise—laid an egg. “We’ll just have to call him Thomasina then,” says Grandfather. A particularly affectionate tale, full of tenderness and caring for its quaintly absurd bird and her caregivers. (Picture book. 3-6)