Saturday, I looked out at the birdfeeder in my backyard. "Oh look," I thought to myself cheerfully, "that gray bird is really enjoying a winter snack!"
A few hours later, I glanced out back again. "Wow! That bird is back again, enjoying the best birdseed Target has to offer!"
The next morning, I saw that the bird was back again. In the exact same position. Not moving.
I know a dead bird when I see one, and this bird was definitely dead. [Passed on! He was no more! He had ceased to be! Expired and gone to meet his maker! A stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off this mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!!]
My birdfeeder guillotined him.
We have really cheeky squirrels and this was described as a squirrel-proof model. A little flap allows lightweight birds to get seed but a heavy squirrel makes the flap come down. Apparently this poor birdie found some way to get his head stuck in the flap at just the wrong time.
(This led Tom to speculate that what made the birdfeeder squirrel-proof was the prompt appearance of a dead bird stuck to the feeder. Who'd want to eat after staring into the glassy eyes of a poor dead sparrow? But personally, I don't think our piggy squirrels would let a minor detail like that stop them. They are that greedy.)
Being that I want only to feed the birds, not kill them, I put on my rubber gloves
and threw the whole damn thing away.
We'll try again today, with a less bloodthirsty model.
19 comments:
Holy crap! I had one of those types and never had nay bird-related injuries!
Extra points for the Monty Python.
Oh there is some cruel irony in that story, isn't there?
Nothing like a Monty Python quote to make me smile on a Monday.
I'm SURE that Erma Bombeck would have NEVER had a killer bird feeder!
Poor birdie. As if their lives weren't difficult enough ...
Ouch!
this is an ex-sparrow! (said in my best john cleese voice)
(just to finish off the monty python quote) (wink wink nudge nudge)
poor birdie.
That was hi-larious. Says something about my sense of humour, no? That bird was deceased all right.
So he was pining for the fjords, was he? Glad you pulled on the rubber gloves and took care of business.
Seems like life was simpler when it was birdseed, peanut butter, and pinecones.
If it had laid an egg before it bought the farm, it would've fallen down the back of the TV set.
You'll have to watch out for that.
BURMA!
I panicked.
Are you sure he wasn't pinin' for the fjords?
what? no pictures?
You do realize you are going to get some weird blog hits for that sentence?
It is sad you had a gory bird feeder encounter. Better luck with the next model.
Is it bad that I laughed at that? Look at it as survival of the fittest. If it hadn't been your birdfeeder, that bird would have been caught unawares by a cat the next day.
Yeah, I laughed, too.
You're more like the Sweeney Todd of birdfeeders, not Erma Bombeck. Maybe you should go back to the old fashioned breadcrumb method . . .
Wendy
I'm almost sorry I don't have any Pining for the Fjords sock yarn left. I'm pretty sure I don't have time to dye any tonight either.
If I ever get my head out of the dyepots (or my arse, depending on where one believes my head to be) I shall see if I can do some up for you. I think I wrote it down.
I would have been horrified but seeing I'm an experienced rat slaughterer a little sparrow is nothing to me.
I feel so horrible for having laughed and laughed at this.
Giggle. Snort. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
So how many times did you replay Monty Python to get the exact phasing down, word for word????
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