The Tangle nereo

Bounce bounce bounce.

Louis' blue form bounded in a widening gyre around his newest prize. It was a big prize too, deliciously plump and his. His parade of magnificence was halted as he caught a flitter out of the corner of his eye, his form halted and his black eye fixed suspiciously on the subject.

It didn't matter that the subject, a greyish wren, presently was very little threat. To Louis, anything was a threat. Louis' cape of bright blues and blacks flared, and his little mohawk of a crest took on a startled quality. A wild, near-amazonian like shriek (a call he had picked up courtesy a wounded woodchuck) parted from his black beak, and he fanned out his wings protectively over the acorn.

He flapped his wings rapidly, so that he might appear bigger, while his thin tail fanned and black legs thrummed on the ground in a war-dance. "MINE!"