Two parakeets.

Two parakeets materialize on the ledge of my window. I have not seen their approach and landing. They may have surfaced from the ledge itself, for all I know. I am at the other side of the wall, grading exams. One of the two parrots calls my attention by tapping on the glass with its beak. It is a pleasant sound. It takes me some time to grasp I'm being called by a parakeet. I draw the curtains and the parrot stops tapping the glass with a sigh of relief. Both of them look like ordinary parrots, with their customary long tails and their predominant green plumage. The one who was calling me with insistence is in command of this group of two. Presently, it is staring at me and nodding its little parakeet head, urging me to take some action. The other one, at the far end of the ledge, does not bother to look at our signal exchange. It seems vigilant, as if keeping a careful watch for unwelcome third parties. I try for a long while to decipher the message on that fixed look. The seed of a notion starts dawning on me. A tiny modulation of the light at the back of my eyes betrays me. The parakeet leader shrugs its birdie shoulders and commands the other to leave the ledge. Which they do.