Arguing with Birds... again

As I walked around the building, I saw two brown and grey streaked birds splashing in a large muddle puddle. One of the birds saw me and indignantly shouted, "Excuse me, this is our lake!"



"That's not a lake," I said, smiling down at the birds. "That's a puddle."



"No, it's a lake," one of the birds said, fluttering his wings in the water. "It's a lake with worming."



"Worming?" I asked, confused.



"Worm!" the second bird cried, diving into the puddle. He emerged seconds later clutching a struggling worm in his beak. The bird rapidly fluttered his wings as he tried to eat the worm, crying, "Worm worm worm! Wormy wormy worm!" Finally, he managed swallow the worm and hopped out of the lake, where he arrogantly shook his feathers. He looked at me and said haughtily, "Worm."



"Worm," I agreed, trying not to laugh.



"That's worming," the first bird informed me, staying in the puddle.



"Worming isn't a word," I said as the second bird pecked around the field of mud and grass.



"Is too," said the bird, who has lost interest in finding his own worm to argue with me. He hopped out of the lake and pecked the ground for a moment before he hopped back into the puddle. Once in the puddle, he began to flutter his wings wildly.



"Why do you do that?" I asked, my brow wrinkling.



"I'm swimming!" he informed me as he hopped back out of the lake. "You can't go swimming--it's my lake!"



"Worm worm worm!" cried the second bird, spying another worm. He began to run across the field as it flopped wildly in his beak, crying, "Wormy wormy worm."



"Give me that worm!" shrieked the first bird as he chased the second bird. "Gimme the worm!"



"Mine mine mine!" the second bird howled as he ran, swallowing the worm in bits as he fought to catch the falling worm bits. "Mine mine mine mine!"



During the struggle, another bird circled the puddle over head. The first bird gasped.



"My lake!" he cried, running towards the puddle. "My lake my lake my lake!" He squawked loudly at the intruding bird, who flew away.



"Why didn't you just share the puddle? I asked, feeling sorry for the dejected bird who flew away. The first bird fluttered his wings rapidly in the puddle and replied snidely, "Lakes with worming are quite exclusive. Not everyone gets them."



"Even if it's a puddle," I mumbled as I began to walk away. The bird howled in response, "Lake!" A few steps later, I heard his triumphant "Worm!" as he dove in the puddle, along with his victorious rapid thrashing of his wings. The only thing the birds like more than their worming is to argue.