The birds sung across the jungle, their song sharp, loud, as if they knew they weren't supposed to be here. Even the small song birds were awfully predatory, hyped up by their high blood pressure as if they were teenagers with high testosterone. They were bullies, and these balls of feathers did in fact bully the weaklings amongst their bunch.
Weaker birds of their species were full of abscesses, caused by bacterial infections after their skin was exposed to the elements thanks to being pecked on. Their anti-bacterial medicine? Dandelion roots, stuffed a couple of inches beneath the ground, in rare spots where the jungle wasn't a complicated mess of vines. Even small runts knew how to maintain their health to some degree, granted, their brothers and sisters have bullied them away from their food supply, they still held strong to their instincts.
