A Stamp in the Postcards ep 72

My rope toes carried me around the postcard stack to inspect the back of the pile. Glinting near the dusty wall, a loose postage stamp with crinkly serrated edges was sticking out from an envelope fold. I froze three paces away, tilting my head left, then right, checking if it might flutter loose. It held still. I stepped forward and gave the perforated border a sharp peck with my beak. With a dry papery scrape, it slid free across the varnished pine ledge. I nudged it flat against my tucked feather, very satisfied with my collection.