"Bird watcher, bird caretaker, birdhouse builder - when I manage to wield a hammer without self-injury, anyway," Mary Margaret murmurs, keeping her voice soft and low as she smiles, her gaze drawn to the birds around them even as she pays attention to his words, his presence, making it clear that she's as aware of him as she is their winged feeders.

"I have birds back home who come and visit, but - nothing like these. I've never seen such exotic colors," she adds. "Are they all from here, or do some of them arrive out of the blue, just like we do?"