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“Aurora Rose looked back up at the nightjar. She raised up a graceful hand. There was no reason the carnivorous and mostly shy bird should leave its perch and alight on her finger. But it did. 'How did she know it was carnivorous?' It burbled happily and did everything but rub its strange, whiskered beak on her hand like a cat. She stroked the back of its head.” — Liz Braswell
Aurora Rose looked back up at the nightjar. She raised up a graceful hand. There was no reason the carnivorous and mostly shy bird should leave its perch and alight on her finger.
But it did.
'How did she know it was carnivorous?'
It burbled happily and did everything but rub its strange, whiskered beak on her hand like a cat. She stroked the back of its head.