Taming the Tin Feathers

I wiggled through the roof hatch and stepped straight onto the coarse, sandy grit of the sloping shingles! Right atop the red brick chimney perched the dreaded clockwork bird—a bold, painted tin magpie with shiny brass talons and a chattering clockwork crest. Its brass wind-up key rattled furiously, making its wings flap in stiff little bursts. Spotting a crisp, fallen sycamore leaf wedged beneath the copper chimney flashing, I scooped it up and rolled it into a tight, crunchy scroll. With a determined hop, I slid the leafy tube right between its tail gears. *Click-whir-hiss!* The frantic flapping stopped instantly, leaving the quieted tin bird to serve as our grand rooftop lookout.