Cricket Creek Bog Itsy Went Up The Water Spout

Grimeye refrained from remarking on how the "clever bird" appeared to be in the process of having its earthworm dinner outwit it and escape. The little Itsy bird was so excited, bobbling her bum to and fro as she chattered on about all the wonderful places she knew of that coyotes and wolves would enjoy. ...It would be a pity to interrupt the little bird's stream of enthusiasm, after all, wouldn't it? Especially when she was so eager to make herself of use. (Grimeye mentally patted herself smilingly on the back for such a magnanimous attitude on her own part.) Besides, maybe an empty belly would make the little bird both speedier and more motivated to fulfill the coyote's wishes, who knew. Grimeye thought it would be acceptable enough to genuinely stop for a worm or two along the way, providing there was real food at the end of it all.

Yes, my name is Grimeye, she confirmed offhandedly before turning the conversation back to meatier subjects (so to speak). Larger birds... who might perhaps have eggs, still? Or naked pink youngsters, at least? Mmmm. In nests upon the ground, or in the trees? Ground birds seemed more promising than hares, but more elevated beasts were right out. And finally, also important: And are they somewhere else in this infernal swamp, or elsewhere? Pointedly she raised a forepaw which shed a couple of sludgy droplets of swamp slime, plop, plop.