Their carriages are upright in a dry green. They stand at once passionate and familiar. His beak is respectful, level, rather than diffident in uptilt, his tail a downward sloping tube like a story. His face is bright and remembers everything, one formidable claw hangs, while flat the other holds him steady to the earth, hangs gloved in dust immeasurably. While she in straight grass stands popped-up from an unexpected bush.