Baby bird

>Lately your fluffy pony has been eating dirt when it thinks you’re not looking.
>A week or so after this there seems to be a funny smell coming from its safe room.
>So you put your fluffy pony in it play pen in the living room and start cleaning.
>In one of the far corners of the safe room you stumble across something horrible.
>Under your fluffy pony’s blanket you find a dead baby bird cover in twigs and vomit.
>As soon as fluffy pony sees you carrying the blanket to the trash it freaks out.
>”My Baba my baba!” squeals the fluffy pony over and over again.
> You replace the soled segments of the safety rooms padded floor with new cushions.
>When you come back you fluffy pony is crying hysterically.
>It take a good 10 minutes to calm the poor thing down which for a fluffy pony is an eternity.
>Through fluffy pony’s inane babbling you managed to slowly piece together what happen.
>One day fluffy pony found a baby bird in the yard and snuck it into the house.
>Remembering what fluffy pony saw on the nature channel it thought mother birds ate dirt and vomited it back up for the baby bird.
>You now limit fluffy pony’s T.V. time and pay closer attention when its running around in the back yard.