A Speckled Pebble

I followed the edge of the porch steps down to the stone gravel path, keeping each hop steady and slow. Sitting right between two smooth river stones was a tiny, dried seed pod with stiff, flared ribs. I halted three inches away, lowering my body to let my weight settle into the gritty dirt. I watched it quietly as a faint garden breeze brushed over the ground; the pod stayed firmly wedged. Moving forward with one careful step, I pressed my beak against its ridged edge, nudging it just enough to hear the soft, satisfying rattle of loose grains trapped inside.