“Then he’d run around a corner, waiting for them to gather for the feast. Within moments, they dived down from the sky in their hundreds, pecking at the snow with their tiny beaks. Ollie would try to move closer to examine them better, but they were wary little creatures. Ollie only had to take one step toward them and they all flew up in the same instant, scattering in large black clouds with a sudden flutter of their tiny wings. They twirled toward the sky in a long arch, either stretching apa...rt or bundling tightly together, a hundred tiny bodies sharing one big soul. Ollie stood in the middle of the yard, following them with his eyes: the great soul-cloud of the birds dancing on the frosty white morning. Henry had now become used to having Ollie in the cowshed. He didn’t mind if Ollie was reading; actually it was quite nice to listen to his voice while milking. His presence had ceased to be a threat, especially now that Henry and Mark had become friends. Sometimes Henry went to the smithy after milking and helped John and Mark with the pallets.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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