The sun rose slowly on the village of Boschbog.
By any metric it was an unassuming morning, no different than the previous. The birds, however, knew that this was not the case.
A metallic echo chased them from their nests. For just a moment the morning sun was obscured by a sudden rush of feathers.
Not a single soul in Boschbog witnessed it, the village was still blissfully unaware of the metal clanking slowly heading towards them.
There was a loud thud. The obnoxious sound of metal had ceased. The birds returned to their nests as if nothing had happened.
The sun continued to rise, unbothered, soon to wake Boschbog to an unusual visitor in the nearby woods.