The bird could not believe her luck. In all her wild life she had never come across anything like this: a daily buffet of row after row of choice seed laid out in sand beds with a light sprinkling of sand, tenderised by rain and toasted to a delicious consistency by the morning sun – and all available for nothing more than the effort of scratching away the sprinkling of sand over the feast… At first she was cautious – there was after all that ferocious being, with the tattered clothes that flapped in the wind, but after several meals the bird recognised that the being was a straw tiger: it could flap but it could not fly. Haha. It could glare but it could not roar. The other birds were not so sure. It was against the order of nature, they thought, to have food served on buffet beds like this. Food hung on trees, in take-away pods and fruits. They were rarely defruited and tenderised and toasted… there was something not quite hibiscus about it. Besides where there was one Flapping Being, there were now two. But the bird hopped down to her meal as usual.
So the farmer shot her.