Bird head. Neck trumpet. Shadowy orbit where the socket should be. Can you pick lice off your chest with that narrow beak? Your beady birdy eyes scan the approaching wave. Your fingers skim the water's surface. The cirronimbi stretch high above you : unreachable fluff to line a nest you don't need. You listen to caws and calls that you can't make with your human throat, your waterbird voice. Sometimes the hybrids turn out mute. With a big body you need so much more to feed you.
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