BIZARRE INTRUSION

 

Unwittingly, as are most of my actions, I have turned our back yard into a bird sanctuary.  Though it was quite intentional that the new bird feeder hung in the lone tree in our tiny backyard hideaway would be for the comfort and full use of any desiring fowl., the scope and vigor of their acceptance, however, has exceeded the bounds of all imagination.

 

Several days passed impatiently after the feeder was placed into service, its chamber gorged with a myriad of seeds, but no customers in sight.  I wondered if they would ever discover the philanthropic offering. 

 

Slowly the news of abundant seed spread throughout the ornithic community, and soon the feeder became a favorite hangout for a host of feathered gluttons.  Angrily the selfish little bastards fought their way to the portal of select seeds, satisfying their God-given hunger to consume four-fold their body weight in craw-watering delicacies with each passing day.  Their presence at the fountain of bird goodies has been almost constant, interrupted only by the patio visits of humankind.

 

So voracious have they been in their quest to devour the entire offering, that it takes a quart of seeds to supply their daily demand.  Dutifully their meals have been served on pace with their demand, until once, just once, the bird-loving benefactor took a couple of days off to get drunk and relax from the tense demands of business and bird feeding.  After two days of neglect, the feeder ran empty.

 

Realizing the error of my ways, I set about to right the terrible wrong, intending to refill the feeder to its brim with the delicious bird victuals. 

 

In response to the high demand the birds had placed upon me, I had placed the supply of seed in an Igloo cooler having a capacity of about two gallons on the nearby patio for convenient access.  For such use the vessel was ideally suited.  It was watertight with a screw-on lid, fully insulated, and constructed of strong plastic material.  It was from this cache that the daily rations were scooped for final delivery to the hanging feeder.

 

The next morning I set out to catch up on my neglected chores.  Upon reaching the cooler I was shocked to find that my hard-beaked friends had broken into the birdseed stash.  Much like a classic bank vault break-in, my winged ones gained unauthorized entry into the seed chamber by pecking a hole in the lid.  The hole was large enough to allow full access to the remaining contents and exit by winged flight.  It was a product of toil that would make any woodpecker proud.

 

Since that discovery, my respect for flying critters has increased exponentially, as I recall the Hitchcock thriller, The Birds.  I feed them every day, hoping that their taste for seed will never be displaced by a yearning for human flesh.  Call it extortion if you will, but never underestimate the potential threat that now overshadows my life.

 

Some think life is but a series of metaphors, each having deep meaning. 

 

In accord with that thinking, this tale has a moral:  Those who are firm of pecker and rife with resolve are not be denied.  A legion of those so endowed stands ready.

 

Ladies take note.