She turned away and brought her attentions back to the thistle feeder. But she found she had somehow lost her appetite for the moment.
She sat. And she sat some more. Actually far longer than an energetic little finch is apt to sit in one spot. At last, having had an idea, she turned back to the toad and said, “Let’s trade!”
“Trade what?” croaked the toad, looking a little alarmed. He was worried that she was hoping to acquire his collection of snail shells. He again rubbed his rubbery hands over his face.
“Trade places!” squeaked Finch. “You try it my way and I’ll try yours!”
Toad’s large golden eyes opened even further. He gulped and felt as if he had a cricket stuck in his throat. The mere thought of being up where Finch sat was dizzying. “Ummm, maybe that’s not practical.” he croaked hoarsely. “I’m sort of busy at the moment.” He darted his big eyes around, frantically attempting to come up with something to busy himself with.
“Oh come on, Toad. Don’t be a stick in the mud!” she squeaked coaxingly.
Actually Toad found the idea of being a stick in the mud somewhat appealing. Especially compared to the thought of being a toad out on a limb! But the way Finch was peering at him, with her shining dark eyes, made it hard to decline. “Okay, but you first,” Toad gulped.
Finch thought, “What have I gotten myself into!” But she mustered her courage and swooped down to the ground. She inched herself under the ginger leaves, feeling them close, all around her. It was as if she were roosting in a very densely leaved ree. She glanced at Toad, anticipating some sign of approval. Instead, he looked at her as if he expected more.
4.