The shadows of summer birds hop among skeletal branches. Aviary hobos shifting disheveled feathers in the cold morn. They pluck the remains of fleshy, firey fruit from the bones of the tree. Berries striped from limbs and gobbled down throats, the winter berries disappear. Each morsel looks enough to choke the feathered feinds, yet the scavengers continue for days multiplying in numbers until the tree is empty of birds and berries both.