The little stood perfectly still, head tilted, one beady eye fixed on the scattered grains of corn. I watched it from across the courtyard, hiding my smile as it puffed out its tiny chest, pretending to be fierce. Every few seconds, it would let out a soft peep , then glance sideways at its siblings scrambling in the dust. But something in the air—a shadow, a scent—made it freeze again, listening. When our eyes met, it didn't run. Instead, it blinked slowly, as if deciding whether I was a friend or just another odd-looking bird in its world.