"Hey, fatso. You're wreckin' my home," it jay-ed in a tiny voice.
The pony made no answer, as the bird's tiny words were incomprehensible to his clunky brain.
"Is tiny bug," his snortings boomed.
The pony walked three steps forwards, but the bird remained perched on his snout, its claws bedded in his hairs. He walked five steps backwards (and almost getting towards the tree), but the bird was still blocking his view, staring at him.
"Haw haw haw. Tryin' to say somethin' awfully un-funny, bagpipe-o'-lard. For almost destroyin' my home, here's my gift."
The bird pecked at the hairs of his bulky snout. Such a thing as this caused our poor, sensitive horse to freak out, and buck and kick away at the air, like most horses do, screaming and squealing for help. And as quickly as a mirage, the bird was laughing and fluttering off, delighting at the misery of his equine enemy.
He bucked up and down, around and around, as to ensure that the bird will not block his sights. He looked around, left, and right, and as he turned left again, the bird landed on his snout. Again.
"What's up, fatty? Want some apples? Ya can't have any more, any longer."
The pony snorted and chortled, annoyed that the bird was there to stare and taunt him, squawking and screeching, just to stop him from getting to the apple trees. After all, he wants some tasty apples, no?
What else would he do, then?
He galloped a U-turn towards the tree, shooing the bird as he shook his snout and nose. Then he quickly turned his back away from the tree, and KICKED it!
The tree shook its branches, and down descended a shower of green leaves ... and a rain of delicious, red apples. The pony gleefully grabbed one with his drooling mouth, munching away his prize before trotting back.
However, the bird landed at his snout, and stared at him again. This time, it feels irritated, as to ensure that he will not go out through the white picket fence, and back into his metallic stable ...
"I'm not givin' up pesterin' ya, dodgeball."
Shelby, being determined, shook his head as he galloped back to the stable. But even then, that pesky little blue jay still had not given up pesterin' him. The sight of such a ridiculous display, of Shelby trying to have a moment of peace to eat his grass, interfered constantly by that angry little jay hopping and pecking at his snout (and scratching and tearing his mane), would be temptingly humorous.
Nevertheless, Natalie was also there, chasing the bird away, until it was never seen again. She then nursed any of his wounds, and gave him a fresher apple from the fridge.
