Why do humans do this ??

The night was quiet, perfect for sleeping. I had just tucked my head under my wing, dreaming of stale bread crumbs, when suddenly—BANG! A door creaked open below, and I snapped awake. I peeked down from my cozy perch in the rafters. Two humans had entered, one looking nervous, the other way too confident. I fluffed my feathers in annoyance. Why do they always come here at night? I watched as they climbed the iron stairs, disturbing the sacred peace of my home. As they got closer, I decided to remind them whose territory this was. I flapped my wings loudly, swooping past the guy’s face. “AHHH!” he yelped, nearly tripping over himself. The girl laughed. I flapped harder. You think this is funny, lady? They kept climbing, so I retreated to my corner, glaring at them. They reached the top, stepped near the window, and started talking—something about life, poetry, the moon. Whatever. I was more concerned about whether they had snacks. They didn’t. For the next two hours, I watched, judging silently. Then, as they finally moved to leave, I swooped again, just for fun. The guy was too distracted this time, lost in deep thought. Easy target. As they left, locking the door behind them, I ruffled my feathers and sighed. Humans are weird. Time to get back to dreaming about bread crumbs.