The Dangled Fish

I pushed past the foyer doormat and noticed a long knitted blue scarf drooping from the tall wooden coat rack, swaying gently in the hallway breeze. The wool had twisted into a tight, tapered knot near the fringe, bobbing and twitching like an enormous frozen mackerel suspended mid-leap! My tummy immediately rumbled with intense optimism. I crouched my orange feet, gave a determined flap of both wings, and made a clumsy little leap toward the dangling yarn tail. Clunk—my beak snapped down on the wool tip, but instead of pulling it down, my sudden tug caused the entire scarf to unravel by three full coils! Thick, navy folds poured down, draping snugly right over my head like an impromptu winter cape.