I looked down from my tree and saw a large, furry animal feeding upon the remains of a smaller but equally furry animal. At first I felt sickened but quickly mastered the urge.
"Nature must run it's course," I declared.
"Cobblers!" the green and red parakeet I shared my perch with exclaimed. Silence enveloped us once more and we watched the red sun sink slowly beyond the distant horizon.
"Night," said I, once twilight had come and gone. "At last." Perhaps, I thought on, it will get cooler now.
"Cobblers!" the parakeet decried, flapping its wings loftily.
"Of course it's night!" I told it, somewhat testily.
"Cobblers!" the parakeet insisted.
"Deny this then!" I said softly, calmly shooting the bird with my revolver.
Once the cloud of feathers that action provoked had settled, I lay back and slept. But my sleep was uneasy, for the branch I lay upon was far from soft and smooth.