My house has a backyard facing the forest, and for years, feeding the birds had been a soothing routine. It was part of my ritual; I’d have my coffee, brush my teeth, and then scatter the seeds across the lawn, placing some in quieter spots as well, creating little mounds where they would gather. Watching these feathered creatures scampering around was enjoyable, and besides being a relaxing hobby, it was common for them to lose their fear of me over time and start coming closer to my window. Some even woke me up in the morning, replacing the sound of my alarm clock with their natural chirping.
But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. Things have started getting strange lately. I’ve always bought my seeds at our local store, from Mr. Agenor, a longtime resident who was also an ornithologist and wildlife enthusiast, selling baits for other types of animals like foxes, frogs, and so on. About a month ago, when I went to make my daily purchase, I came across a brand I hadn’t seen before. One of the problems we encounter in bird feeding is the lack of variety. Usually, they get bored easily with the food, or worse, they can get sick and even obese if they stick to the same diet. Because of that, I try to vary the types of seeds.
I found one, with not many details on the package, just the name engraved in yellow letters on the transparent plastic: “Enchanted Forest Seeds - More bird variety in your garden.” It seemed intriguing and promising, so I decided to give it a try. I didn’t hesitate to buy a bag and took it home, eager to see how my feathered friends would react.
In the first few days after introducing the “Enchanted Forest” mix, everything seemed normal. The birds continued to visit my backyard, and I felt satisfied watching them delight in the new blend. But as the days passed, I began to notice subtle changes in the birds’ behavior. They stopped showing interest in the seeds; they ate for a maximum of three days, then stopped coming. I spread seeds in the morning, hoping they would appear, but I didn’t see them. However, even so, the seeds I scattered would disappear by the time I woke up during the night.
I began to suspect that maybe it was rats, and knowing that some of them like to prey on birds, I decided to keep an eye out at night to catch them. As usual, I spread the seeds across the empty lawn, going about my other daily tasks, waiting for nightfall. When darkness finally enveloped my backyard, I settled into a chair on the porch, armed with binoculars and determined to catch the intruders. Time passed, and I found myself struggling against sleep, keeping my eyes fixed on the darkness of the garden.
It was when I was almost asleep that I heard a strange noise coming from the lawn that made me jump. It was a soft sound, almost like rustling, but with a rough and unusual quality. I rose quietly from the chair, steadying my binoculars, ready to spot any intruder. As I directed my gaze to the dark lawn, I held my breath as I saw the shadows moving. Small rodents ran along the wooden fence, leaning over the seeds, their quick noses sniffing. I was about to make noise to scare them away when something came, quickly, and pounced on one of the rats. My eyes adjusted as I tried to understand the contours of that body. It looked like a parody of what should be a chicken and some amphibian. It had disheveled feathers in a mix of dark and earthy colors, its wings were membranous but with the texture of scales. Its beak was long and sharp, but it opened to reveal a tongue that seemed to stretch too far, full of small, sharp teeth. And what scared me the most was its large size, practically the size of a child.
I watched in shock as the creature devoured the rat in a matter of seconds, emitting guttural sounds that were a disturbing mix of squawks and grunts. My heart raced in panic as I realized that more of these creatures were emerging from the shadows, advancing toward the other rodents who were weakly trying to escape.
I instinctively recoiled, my mind struggling to process what I was witnessing. My hands trembled and refused to obey me, the binoculars seemed to weigh a ton now, making me drop them to the ground. I took a few steps back but stumbled, falling seated on the porch floor with a dry snap of the wood. The creatures stopped, silent, their heads gradually rising and turning towards me, their red eyes staring directly at me.
I found myself paralyzed, my body trembling with fear as I stared into those wild eyes. It was as if the creatures were assessing me, deciding if I was a threat or prey. My mind screamed to run, to hide, but my body refused to obey.
The creatures began to move slowly towards me, their heavy footsteps echoing in the silence of the night. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about how chickens move like dinosaurs probably did, but it was practically that, I watched horrified at the scene that seemed to come out of a movie. I crawled backward, desperately searching for an escape route, but soon my back found the wall of the porch, leaving me cornered. One of them, the largest, jumped on the steps, making them creak loudly under the weight of its awkward mass. I was now face to face with the creature, its hot and foul breath enveloping my face as it examined me with its hungry eyes.
My hands fumbled awkwardly along the wall until luckily I found the window, opening its latch and jumping inside. Landing on the kitchen floor, I ran desperately to lock the porch door, praying that those creatures couldn’t find a way into the house. My heart pounded in my chest as I retreated to the center of the room, searching for anything I could use as a weapon or barricade.
The sound of scratching at the porch door sent a shiver down my spine as the creatures outside seemed to cackle sadistically. I could hear the guttural grunts echoing through the house, mixed with the sounds of feathers and scales scraping against wood. Hours passed as I remained there, huddled in the corner of the room, waiting for the dawn that seemed never to come. Every sound made me jump in fear, every shadow made me tremble in terror.
Finally, the first rays of sunlight began to penetrate through the windows, banishing the darkness that had engulfed my house. With a sigh of relief, I slowly rose from the floor, my muscles tense and sore from the night of tension. Cautiously, I approached the porch door, hoping to find the backyard empty and the creatures gone. But what I found was even more disturbing. The morning light revealed the chaos that had ensued in my backyard. The grass was torn up, the seeds scattered on the ground, mixed with feathers and scraps of meat from the rats that the creatures had hunted. The nearby plants were trampled and torn. But what shocked me the most was the discovery of strange and sinister footprints marked in the earth, large and irregular, leading towards the tree line.
Desperate to understand what was happening, I searched my house for answers. I called Mr. Agenor, but his phone rang unanswered. I tried to find information online about the “Enchanted Forest” brand but to no avail. That was last night. Now I’m sitting in my living room, curtains drawn, lights off, but the dead silence from outside was extinguished. As I write these words, I hear again the scratching at the porch door, the distorted laughter, and the guttural sounds drawing near. I don’t know if they can get in, but I just peeked through the second-floor window, and they are larger than when I first saw them. Maybe I have to move, maybe I should run while I still can. But one thing is certain: These seeds brought something terrible into my backyard, and now they want in.