The sun was just peeking over the tops of the pine trees when a sparrow alighted next to a pond in the middle of shabby, lonely park. He’d seen the other bird, waiting there, picking idly at the grass, but he pretended not to notice him. Once he had settled his feathers, he turned to look down his beak at the intruder.

“Oh,” the sparrow said. “So you’re here again.”

“Oh!” said the other. “So you’re here. Again!”

“You say that like you expect me not to be here. When you know this is my corner of the park.”

“You can’t claim an entire corner for yourself!”

“Okay, then I claim the old man who comes to this corner of the park every morning and throws bread.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever yourself!”

“Great retort.”

“Whatever. This is my corner and you know it.”

They fell into silence, neither one willing to give any ground, and each determined to ignore the other.

Tentatively, after a few moments, the sparrow gave a small chirp. Then, more confidently, he opened his beak wide and let out a full-throated trill.

“What was that?” the other bird said with a smirk.

“What?”

“Was that for my benefit?”

“Just keeping the old voice sharp.”

“Well, can it.”

“Uh, it’s a free country, pal.” The sparrow shook his feathers defensively. “Besides, studies show that people are twenty percent more likely to throw bread to birds who make noise than those who stay silent.”

“Yeah? Who paid for that study? Big Bread?”

“What does that…what does that even mean?”

The other bird rolled his eyes. “If you don’t know already, it’s no use explaining it to you.”

“Well, all I know is that people seem to think if you do some singin’, you deserve something in return. Reciprocity, buddy.”

“Reciprocity, right.” The bird bobbed his head.

They waited in tense silence, each one scanning the park for any sign of the old man with the bread.

“What time is it?” the sparrow asked.

“Dunno.”

“Why not?”

“My watch broke.”

“Well, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Just check the shadows, dummy.”

“Well, that’s why I asked. They seem shorter than usual.”

The other bird hopped toward the pond to get a better look. “You’re right. That one turtle’s already sunning himself on that rock. He usually doesn’t make it up there till long past bread time.”

“Exactly.” The sparrow lowered his voice. “Do you think…something happened? To the old man?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Do you think he might be…?”

“What?”

“You know.”

“What? Busy?”

“Dead,” the sparrow whispered.

“Oh!” said the other bird. “Well, I don’t…I mean, I hope not. Christ! What a thing to—you know you’re going to feel awful if it turns out he actually did die.”

“Why? It’s not like I killed him. If he even is dead.”

“Hang on. How do I know you didn’t kill him? Pecked him to death so you could feast on his mountains of bread all by yourself. You selfish brute!”

“Would I be waiting here if I’d killed the old man?”

“Maybe if you wanted to throw me off the scent. Where are you keeping the bread, you fiend?”

“I don’t have any bread. And I didn’t kill any old man!”

“A likely story!” the other bird cried.

“You know what? I’m leaving. Since he’s obviously not coming.”

“Oh, sure! Fly away! Fly away to hide your guilt. Shame on you, sparrow! Shame on you!”

“Oh, I see. That’s how you want to play it? Fine. I’ll stay here all day.”

“So will I!”

“Then we’ll see who’s alive and who’s not.”

“I guess we will!”

They hunkered down on the grass and stared in opposite directions as they waited for the old man to appear. The shadows grew shorter, then disappeared, and finally lengthened to the east. The turtle splashed back into the water. Aside from three teenagers who trudged over to smoke in the gazebo up the hill, nobody else came to the little park. As the light faded, the sparrow began to get nervous. Clouds gathered overhead—dark clouds—and the air felt heavy with rain.

“Hey,” the sparrow said.

No answer.

“Hey!” With some embarrassment, he realized he’d never asked the other bird’s name. “Bird!”

The first raindrops fell, enormous drops that splashed down around them, falling faster and faster by the second. Without waiting for a response, the sparrow scurried over, dodging drops as best he could, and stretched a wing out as shelter for the other bird. The bird didn’t wake up, just shook his head quickly and nestled into the sparrow’s feathers.

Man, the sparrow thought. This bird’s gonna be so embarrassed in the morning when I tell him what—

But then he realized he wouldn’t be able to tell the other bird what had happened. Not after their standoff. If he were found aiding the enemy, wasn’t that as good admitting defeat? Still, a cold wind had picked up, and it wasn’t unpleasant to have another creature’s warmth next to him. He burrowed his head into his own feathers as best he could. He’d just make sure to wake up early the next morning so he could put some distance between them. The other bird never needed to know.

When dawn arrived, however, the sparrow woke to find the other bird gone and two fat caterpillars wriggling in the mud at his feet. He slurped one up without thinking, but then stopped to look around.

“Bird?” he called out.

“Yeah,” came a voice behind him.

The sparrow gave a startled hop. “Oh! I…thought you were gone.”

“Nope. Just been scouting.”

“Thanks for these,” the sparrow said, nodding at the remaining caterpillar.

“Eat up,” he said. “We’ve got a long flight ahead of us.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to find that old man,” the bird said. “And we’re going to pillage his bread mountain.”

The sparrow almost choked on the caterpillar.

“What’s wrong?” sneered the other bird. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

“Oh, you’d just looove that, wouldn’t you?” cried the sparrow.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, if that’s what you mean.”

“Enough chattering! Let’s go, already!” the sparrow shouted, spreading his wings and bobbing excitedly.

The other bird smiled. “Bet I find him before you do.”

“You are such a child,” the sparrow said. But he still darted off before the other bird had time to take a breath. “Too slow, old crow!” he called behind him.

And so they set off together, away from the shabby, lonely park, toward the mountain of bread that awaited them.