He wasn't going to forage. He was embarking on a most dangerous "reconnaissance mission." 'Yes, that's it.' Rick had found himself an excuse.
The beach was deserted. Only five giant wooden platters lay silently under the moonlight.
Rick didn't land immediately. He circled high above, observing carefully. No nets. No reflective metal. No suspicious devices.
'It seems those two-legs really did just drop off the food and leave.'
He descended slowly, landing at the point farthest from the wooden platters. He approached step by step, ever vigilant.
The yellow sticks in the wooden platters were already cold, and their aroma had faded, but they still stirred his appetite.
He stretched out his neck and gingerly tapped one of them with the tip of his beak.
Cold. Stiff.
'It's not alive.'
He mustered his courage and picked one up with the tip of his beak.
