I'm fairly sure there's a bird in my ceiling

by TheDriderPony

Chapter 3

I'm fairly sure there's a bird in my ceiling.

It makes sense that there would be a bird in a tree. Trees are for birds. But not all trees. Not my tree. This a is a pony tree now, for ponies and not birds. It should know better and respect that.

Not that I'm angry, it's my bird after all. It must have followed me all the way here from Canterlot. Being semi-migratory changes my hypothesis on what species it may be, but I’m glad it’s here all the same.

Spike still says he can't hear it. He's even gone so far as to accuse me of having an imaginary friend. What nonsense. As if a grown mare would have an imaginary friend, and one as simple as an invisible bird. Really now. If I was going to create an imaginary friend, it would be a far more well-developed character concept than that.

But I know he's curious. He wants to believe in the bird. I've heard him moving around at night, searching for it. But if I haven't been able to find it for years of effort, what chance does he have? Even if he is light and small enough to climb up into the rafters.

I think my bird is getting bolder, too. That, or just more used to living here. I can tell it's been moving around the house during the day when Spike and I are out.

I've come back to my room and found my sheets ruffled, my pillow moved. I think it was looking for nesting materials. Even my manebrush is picked clean.

Fluttershy seems like a nice enough sort. I might ask her to come over and try to talk to it. After all this time, I'd like to see my bird at least once. Maybe she could ask it to stop breaking all the small branches in the upper boughs of the tree.