"People say you can't read birds that well, but they're just as easy to understand as a dog or cat if you know how to look for the signs," Mary Margaret openly muses, breaking off another piece of the crust and tossing it out into the middle with a small flick of her wrist. The repetition in the movement, the happy sounds from the birds as they feed - some resorting to competition for food - it all serves to leave her with this inner peace, and her smile reflects that when she turns back to him.

"I probably couldn't stay for more than the length of a short trip," she admits. "I'd feel - too cooped up. Too confined. Like one of these guys trapped in a cage."