Remember the Red Bird

The jay fluttered through the trees. The cardinal twittered in her nest. But the bluebird swooped gracefully through the air. How beautiful she was as she swooped down, snatching a spider from its web to bring back to her nest. Bluebird settled down and dropped the spider in front of her only hatchling, which gobbled it down eagerly.

A horrifying sound pierced through the air of the peaceful woods. A meow. A hiss. A cat. Bluebird’s head went up at the sound, and she peered into the thick foliage, full of dread. Her small nest was very close to the ground indeed, on the lowest branch of the shortest tree, where she had moved when her young chick had revealed her terror of heights.
“What’s that, momma?” asked the hatchling.
“That, my baby, is the sound of a ferocious cat. Never go near a cat, or it’ll gobble you down in a second. Remember the redbird?”
“Yes, momma.”
“His death was due to a cat. Never go near a cat. Whenever you feel the urge, remember the redbird.”