Birds Play Chicken?

A flock of little birds sat in a sunny patch of sidewalk. I jogged toward them, still half a block away. Manicured conifers lined the lawn to my right.

A car roared around the corner. All but one of the birds fluttered into a tree.

I jogged closer, watching the last little bird. When I was about three pavement squares away, she took off. I watched her fly to the very top branch of the tree.

She chirped a long happy trill. I could almost hear her saying, “Ha ha, I’m the bravest! I get the top spot!”

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