A stork glided through the warm summer air. Nothing could ruin this perfect day, it thought. The cool breezes sifted through his feathers, and the smell of fresh rain reached his beak. He soared for hours, admiring his territory and warding off unwanted visitors. He snacked on small little bugs. Then he noticed something new. The stork landed to inspect and pecked at what he thought were bright pink worms. However, these were no worms. He pulled, and out popped a bonnet, packed under several layers of dirt. This will make a lovely cushion for my nest, he bemused. He grabbed the small hat with his beak and flew homeward, to his small pond. Landing in the water gracefully, he paddled his way into a smaller pool of water surrounded by grass. He left the bonnet in the dirt and searched for small fish, the kind that darted in and out of the reeds. Those were the tastiest. He leisured in the water, relaxed and convinced that nothing could ruin his perfect day. Then he was startled by the sound of an object landing in the water with a large splash. He immediately spread his wings and took off. Curious though, he stayed just close enough to examine the object. It was a stick with a point on the end, and had landed very close to his home. Enraged, he searched for the animal who had tried to attack his precious resting place. He flew high, and searched the ground with a fierceness that only increased when he finally found the hunter, now turned prey. A small human boy had tried to shoot him, and now was yelling and banging his small toy drum. Ferocious in his anger, the bird dove to attack his attacker, and nearly succeeded, had it not been for the boy's chancing to look in his direction.
The small child ran, loosing one of his boots as he scurried away, terrified of the large bird heading straight for him. Unfortunately for the stork, the boy escaped before the stork could give him what-for. If nothing else, the stork thought, then at least I will have a trophy worthy of a vicious conqueror, aiming for the boot. The shiny leather seemed appealing, and would look nice next to his bonnet. Perhaps I shall begin a collection of human things, simply for my amusement. It will be nothing like the collections of other beasts, even the treasures of a lion will not compare. For they do not preserve their trophies, but only destroy them in the process of eating. He picked up the boot, and carried it away, though it smelled awful and heavier than it looked. When he flew over his nest, he dropped the boot and it landed with a smack on the water. Pleased with his growing collection, he again reviewed his terrain, and was pleased to find that all was once again safe. Convinced that there would be no more intruders, he returned home and slept.
At dawn, he awoke. He preened his feathers and prepared for his duties as lord of the air of his domain. But this time, he was surprised to find that the boy had returned, and was searching for something. Silent as the arrow that had been aimed at him just the day before, he glided just above the boy and followed him in order to discover why this strange creature had woke so early. The boy spent much time tripping over small items such as rocks, and the stork had a hard time stifling his laughs so as not to be discovered. But soon enough, the boy found the object of his quest: the stork's nest. He quietly searched the icy water with his hands. The stork stared in confusion. The boy obviously could not hunt for fish or be attacking his nest, so why had he come? And why did he not put up a fight? The stork landed softly and watched the child, curiosity overcoming his desire for revenge. Every so often, the boy would pull something out of the water, like a rock, the sodden bonnet, or clumps of slimy mud and algae. But not once did he pull out anything that he wanted. Until he pulled out the boot, which gleamed in the early sunlight because of the water that poured out. The boy had now obviously found what he wanted, and was beginning to leave when the stork that enough was enough. He charged out of his hiding spot and yelled the loudest yell that he could. The boy startled and toppled over on his side, grasping the boot with his grimy and nearly frozen hands. Haha! thought the bird, Not so brave when you don't have those arrows, are you? He pecked a couple of times at the boy, and the scared little boy ran off, boot in hand. The stork let him go. No sense in chasing after something that inconsequential. Besides, I never really wanted to start that new collection anyway. Then I would have to spend all my time fighting rivals, and who always wants to do that?