Pid tensed his shoulder muscles, inclined his wings. He slipped off to the right, approached the bush at what seemed breakneck speed, though he knew this was only because of his small size. At the last second he lifted his tail. Not quite quickly enough. He swooped up and over the top of the bush, but his legs brushed the top leaves, his beak went down, and he stumbled in air for a few feet back-forward.
He blinked beady eyes as if at a challenge. Back toward the bush at a fine clip, again up and over. This time cleanly.
He chose a tree. Zoomed into its network of branches, wove a web of flight, working his way around and around the trunk, over and under branches that flashed before him, through crotches with no more than a feather's-breath to spare.
At last he rested on a low branch, and found himself chirping in delight.
The tree extruded a feeler from the branch he sat on, and touched his wings and tail.
"Interesting," said the tree. "I'll have to try that shape some time."
Ilg.
"Traitor," hissed Pid, growing a mouth in his chest to hiss it, and then he did something that caused Ilg to exclaim in outrage.
Pid flew out of the woods. Over the underbrush and across the open space toward the gate.
This body would do the trick!