Once upon a time, in a sprawling woodland, there was a fowler who was busy weaving together a strange device. His nimble fingers moved in and out, twirling thin ropes. A curious Blackbird fluttered nearby and chirped, "What are you making?"
The fowler, not looking up from his task, replied, "I'm constructing a marvelous city with buildings and towers."
Intrigued, the Blackbird hopped closer, his beady eyes sparkling with curiosity. He imagined bustling streets and towering skyscrapers filled with avian companions.
Sensing his opportunity, the fowler beckoned, "Would you like to visit my city? It’s almost ready."
Eager to explore, the Blackbird swooped down into the 'city'. But no sooner had he landed than he found himself entangled in the rope. It was no city; it was a net! The fowler had tricked him. The Blackbird flapped his wings and squawked, but the more he struggled, the tighter the net bound him.
The fowler smiled proudly and carefully lifted the captured Blackbird. All the while, the Blackbird regretted not being more careful and allowing his curiosity to get the best of him.
Once upon a time, in a woodland that was more bustling than a Black Friday sale, there was a fowler. This fowler wasn't your average, garden-variety bird-catcher. Nope, he was busy doing some next-level DIY, weaving what looked like the world's weirdest hammock.
A Blackbird, sporting feathers as glossy as a brand-new convertible, glides over and chirps, "Oi, mate! What's cooking? Building a trampoline for squirrels?"
The fowler, multitasking like a champ, doesn't even glance up. "Ah, my friend, I'm constructing a city! Skyscrapers, cafes, maybe even a bird-friendly jazz club."
The Blackbird, visions of Broadway musicals featuring feathered friends dancing in his head, is entranced. "A city? Like with bird traffic lights and feather grooming salons?"
Seizing the moment, the fowler grins, "Exactly! How'd you like to be the first tourist? Ribbon cutting's in two shakes of a duck's tail."
More excited than a cat with a laser pointer, the Blackbird does a little aerial acrobatics and lands smack dab in the 'city.' Except—plot twist!—it's not a city. It's a net! Before you can say, "This isn't what I signed up for," he's wrapped up like a Christmas present.
The fowler chuckles, his smile as sly as a fox who just hacked into the chicken coop security system. "Gotcha!"
The Blackbird wriggles and squawks, sounding like an angry car alarm. "Blimey! This city has some serious zoning issues!"
As the fowler lifts his captured prize, our winged friend thinks, "Should've stayed in and binge-watched bird documentaries, shouldn't I?"
In a wood where the trees stood grand and tall,
A fowler weaved a net, a curious trap to install.
A Blackbird flew by, asking, "What's this you make?"
"A city of towers," he lied, "by the lake."
The bird's eyes twinkled, imagining skies,
Where feathered friends danced and sun would arise.
"Would you like in?" the tricky man did ask,
"Oh yes," chirped the bird, seeing no mask.
Down he swooped into what seemed so grand,
But it was a net, and in it, he’d land.
Trapped and ensnared, the Blackbird did cry,
Realizing the fowler had told a big lie.
The man lifted him, his smile broad and wide,
While the Blackbird wished he'd looked inside.
For in his rush and eagerness to see,
He forgot to be careful, as careful as can be.
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