Read by Elie Hirschman
In all the fairy stories, when the hero is magically gifted with an understanding of the speech of birds, it actually does him some good. A robin brings him a message from his true love, or a bluebird tells him about buried treasure, or a starling warns him of a traitor among his companions. It doesn’t really work that way, though — not in real life. Birds mostly talk about seeds and worms and the breeze and nest-building and the state of their eggs. I should know; I’ve been listening to them for seven years.
In all that time, they’ve only ever said one thing that interested me, and that one almost got me killed.
Rated PG: For Hungry Ravens, Corpses, and Curses (Not the Profane Kind)