

His son grimaced as he watched his intent father with eyes on the nest and only the nest. It was a bad sign, he felt, that dad hadn't even noticed his presence. The area was typically safe, but they patrolled separately for a reason. Natural predators to themselves and any kin that joined them did still exist.
Caiman, he noted as the soft flash of scales in the water caught his attention, were a thing. So, that's what happened to the parents of the baby birds his father was so singularly focused on. In a swift dash, he moved to barrel his father out of way, front hooves rearing to crash down on the caiman's head.
One second Learns by Listening was chirping through pursed lips to a nestful of babies, and the next he was on his rump in a rather undignified display of obliviousness. His son was standing before him, and a predatory caiman dealt with at his feet. Where had the caiman come from? Where had his son even come from?
"Father," the younger totoma said patiently. "Pay better attention."
"Why?"
Learns by Listening thought on what he wanted to say next--
"When I have you," he said carefully. "my Watcher."
End.