We are watching the call of the rare purple-haired booby as it calls out for a clue in the distance.

The strange bird supervenes upon its territory, oblivious to the protector it disturbs with great commotion and abandonment.

This needs to... with great commotion and abandonment. Just need to stop.

I'm also, you know, I'm a disabled veteran, nothing veteran.

I've never been deployed or anything like that.

But, you know, my values for joining the military and joining the Army,

like, this shit hurts to see. This shit hurts on such a crazy level. joining the military and joining the army.

Like, this, this shit hurts to see.

This shit hurts on such a crazy level to watch these

wannabies do

this shit, you know, they don't know what they're doing

at all. Unseen by the booby,

yet perilously close,

lies the object of its

fervent search.

I sit here!

I sit here!

A single tantalizing clue, perhaps a glint of something metallic, half buried among the leaf litter, far across the clearing.

And now, it calls.

The bird throws back its head, the long long slender neck arching in a gesture, both graceful and absurd,

reverberating off ancient tree trunks, carrying for hundreds of meters in search of an answer that does not come.

Oblivious to all else, the booby leans forward.

...