He sat on top of the bookshelf staring at me. This had all started when he hit his head on a rock two weeks ago. The sound of the collision had been so loud and vile, that my face tightened and I dropped whatever it was I did to check up on him. I found him on the ground completely mesmerized by the gray tit above him.

He turned to look at me. For a moment, his face jerked back in fear, but then he realized who I was and his expression returned to normal. I remember asking him a lot of questions, even holding up my fingers to see if he could count, but it all seemed fine, except that he didn’t want to get up, instead he wanted to look at the bird.

The next day I found him out in the yard, once again staring at the bird. At random intervals he’d stop, and return to playing like a regular child. But every time I got back to the window, I found him staring at the bird.

One day I didn’t find him in the yard, and the feeling of relief washed over me. I wondered what he’d done, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw his eyes staring blankly at me from the top of the bookshelf. When he noticed that he’d been spotted, he got down and ran away.

It freaked me out but his little sister found it funny. They’d sit staring at each other for long periods of time, until he climbed down and she ran away screaming, Bird attack! Bird attack! Bird attack!

He’d follow behind her, climbing up another bookshelf in another room and the game repeated itself. I noticed that my son didn’t want me to play. If I made any movement towards him, as to join the game, he’d scamper back further into the book shelf, worrying me that he’d fall.

So, today, after putting my daughter to sleep, I walked out. They were in that room together, one in the bed, the other on the bookshelf, silently staring. I thought of him like her little protector bird. I told my son to be careful and to be silent before I shut the door and walked back to the living room. I heard him climbing down just as the door closed.

I saw through the windows, in a tree, a gray tit sitting and staring with intent. At once and with such speed that it shocked me, it swooped down and nibbed a chubby, pink bug off the ground, flying up with the worm in its beak.

My heart jumped, and my brain drew a connection that made me freeze. Running back to the room, I swung the door open, and gagged. He leaned over, his mouth bloody and biting and eating into his little sister’s neck. I grabbed him and pulled him back, screaming,

“Why?”

He pointed at the bird outside of the window.