By Fox Mulder

Written 04/03/2007

Bertie sat alone on a bench and prepared to eat his lunch. He was at a clearing in a forest that had been specifically designed for tourists to use as a place to picnic. There was nobody else around and this pleased Bertie as he preferred to eat alone. He lifted his plastic lunch box onto his lap and raised its hinged plastic lid, which revealed an immaculately prepared strawberry jam sandwich. Feeling very hungry from his morning’s walk Bertie placed both his hands into the box, one hand pinching either side of the sandwich, and lifted the food towards his mouth. It could only have been two inches from his lips when he first heard the whistle and, astonished at its remarkable beauty, Bertie decided to postpone his lunch for a few seconds so that he could listen some more.

The whistling was emanating from somewhere nearby but, due to the acoustics of the clearing, he could not discern its exact location. In fear of frightening whatever it was that was producing the sounds Bertie sat dead still and simply listened. What a wonderful melody it was; so harmonious and magical, such a contrast to the sounds of the city. Bertie soaked the music up, breathed in the fresh spring air of the forest and, with a wide smile on his face, decided to continue his lunch. Again, the sandwich could only have been two inches from his lips when he was interrupted. This time, the sound was far from beautiful; it was a bang, a roaring explosion with such force that it rattled all the leaves on the trees.

The shot silenced the woodland and the whistling stopped in an instant. It took Bertie a few moments to make sense of the carcass on his lap, the blood from its beak seeping into the bread, indistinguishable from the jam.