So uh, this chapter and the two after it take place in mid-October.

Narrator: Matthew

I waited on the street corner where Gil and I had agreed to meet. Not long after I got there, I saw Gil coming down the street. When he reached me, he stopped and grinned.

"Hey, Mattie!" he said cheerfully, his breath coming out in small clouds. "You weren't waiting long, right?"

I shook my head. "Not long, no. What're we doing today?"

He froze in the act of scratching his head and seemed to be thinking. "Uh . . . I dunno."

"What?"

He grinned. "I . . . I didn't really think of anything to do."

I sighed. "Well, that's okay. We can think of something . . ." I looked around and pointed to the woods a little ways off. "How about we . . . um . . . take a walk in the woods, and then . . . go to that café in town?"

He glanced over at the woods.

"Uh—sure," he said after a moment. "That—that sounds good. Yeah."

I looked at him, worried. "I-If you don't want to, that's okay . . ."

"No, no, it's fine," he said. "I just—let's go."

We started off down the street, heading for the woods.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, noticing that he was looking around as if expecting something to jump out. "We can turn back . . . it's not a big deal . . ."

"Nah, it's okay," he muttered, still looking around. "Maybe it won't happen this time."

We had taken a few more steps when there was a sudden sound of fluttering. I glanced around and to my surprise saw that a chickadee had landed on Gil's shoulder.

"Oh, that's so cute!" I exclaimed. Gil frowned and tried to brush the bird off, but it merely fluttered and landed back on his shoulder.

"I think it likes you," I said with a smile as it twittered.

There was more fluttering and a small sparrow landed on his other shoulder.

"Wow," I said in surprise. "Birds aren't usually this friendly, are they . . . ?"

The chickadee hopped closer to his neck and a crow landed next to it.

"Um . . ."

Gil sighed and stuck out his arms. A small yellow bird flew down and perched near his elbow.

After a few minutes, Gil's arms were covered in birds. Crows, sparrows, chickadees, that one unidentifiable yellow bird, a cardinal and a Steller's jay—a red-tailed hawk had claimed his head.

Gil sighed. "Mattie, before you ask: this happens every time I come in these woods, I don't know why, and I can't get them off."

I stared at him. "That's . . . actually really cute . . ."

He smirked. "Well, whatever's on my head, its claws hurt like hell."

"It's a hawk."

"That explains why it's so heavy."

"Do you want me to get it off . . . ?"

"Nah, it's fine. They'll get off once we're outta the woods."

". . . Can I take a picture?"

"Yeah, but don't show it to your bro," he emphasized, halting his stride as I took out my phone.

I smiled. "No problem," I said, and I snapped the picture.

We kept walking until we came out into a different street than we had started on. One by one, the birds fluttered off of Gil's arms and head until they were all gone.

He groaned with relief and dropped his arms. "You'd think a bunch of little birds wouldn't weigh so much," he grumbled.

We continued walking.

"I call the yellow one Gilbird," he said.

I glanced at him.

"Y'know, after me," he explained. "Gilbert? Gilbird?"

I smiled. "You named him?"

"Well, yeah, he's like the only one that shows up every time."

". . . Have you ever considered a career in ornithology?"

"What's that? No, wait—study of birds?"

I nodded.

"No way," he said firmly. "I'm not even that interested in them. They just come to me."

We continued walking in silence for another minute or two.

"I guess you could say I'm a chick magnet."

Both of us burst out laughing at this.