Welcoming The Stranger

"Well, Stanley, what do you think about the new guy?
He sits up there all by himself.  Never looks back this way. 
He's an odd bird."
"Oh, I don't know.  He seems like a pleasant sort.  Maybe he's
just shy.  He only flew in last Tuesday."
"Well, I think there's something suspicious here.  Doesn't speak.
Prefers to sit by himself.  Apparently likes to eat alone; he's 
never joined the flock for afternoon snacks.  I flapped my
wing at him yesterday and he looked the other way.  
Yeah, there's something suspicious here."
"Listen, Clyde, don't go making up "maybe" stories
about the bird.  You can do more damage than good that way."
"Damage!  I'm not going to damage the bird.  But, I am going to
tell him that our flock is known for its friendliness and that
if he doesn't shape-up, he can go roost somewhere else."
"And that's being friendly, Clyde?  You have a strange
definition of 'friendly.'  Maybe he's just lonely.  You know, 
new place, new flock, new routines.  Let's give him
a friendly squawk, maybe invite him to go
fishing with us, offer him a spot here on our limb."
"I don't know, Stanley.  We'd have to give up our prime
places right here on this limb.  We'd have to move over
to make room for this...stranger."
"Now you've got it, Clyde!  We move over, eventually
he joins us, and, just like that, he's not a stranger anymore.
By the way, do you remember when Homer and I made room
for you when you flew in?"
"Yeah, I do.  Lonely, huh?  You think that's why he's like he is?
I guess being lonely can make you do strange things."
"Right again, Clyde.  Sometimes 'strange' just means 'different'."