Oh, flock.

"I have something for you," said the SalesBear as I rubbed my furry cheek to his and made a kissing sound. I cocked my head at him, frowning when he mouthed 'later' before heading to his place next to the visiting flock of seagulls he'd brought to our play pen. Still, I sat in my favorite spot, crossing my paws and placing them on my tummy, and listened as the gulls talked about what they wanted to learn, grinning when a fox eyed them suspiciously.

I was sleepy, wishing for nothing so much as a good bout of hibernation, but vowed to put my head down and plow through the day. I had put in a good 20 hours to prepare for the gulls during my 8o hours working last week and I was determined they would be suitably impressed. SalesBear did owe me, I thought, and I'd not been shy about informing him of that.

BossyBear told me not to help the SalesBear, I remembered, lip edging into a pout as I remembered my scolding. I said yes all the time, I remembered him saying. I didn't prioritize. I made myself sick by working too hard. I blinked when I realized I'd growled at the memory, adopting a friendlier expression for the seagulls as they explained their flight patterns and interest in our habitats.

I wrapped my paws around the bottle of champagne when SalesBear handed it to me, admiring its little cozy. I took it to my den, settling it carefully in the corner and thinking I'd never bought champagne before. But I do like the bubbles.

I settled in with the seagulls, their fluttering wings making me a bit nervous, until it was time to meet with the geese. They are just migrating through and have some very important business to complete while they are here. I have been recruited to help them, meaning that my schedule has gone to the birds, frankly.

"Hi, geese," I said, walking into their nest and catching my breath from the climb, finding a place to settle my bear body. "How are we doing?"

So they honked and I answered questions. They honked and I drew maps of migration routes. They honked and I nodded appreciatively of their stories of flying in Vs.

I lifted my head from our work after several hours, raising my paw for quiet. "I hear the seagulls," I noted. "I must go to them."

"How's it going?" asked a bear as I paddled past him in the pool, hurrying toward the seagull flock.

"Good. Fine," I called. "Geese. Seagulls."

They all had questions and requests, squawking over each other to be heard. So I fetched this and fashioned that, saying that they could of course use my ball and this pail and that bow to finish their project.

Placing my paw to my aching head, I asked the fox if he could finish up, spared a moment's worry that he'd devour a seagull or two, but shrugged and gathered my pretty gift and wandered home with only enough energy to get clean and snuggle into sleepybear clothes to rest.