|"What the hell did this?" he exclaimed.|
Last summer we cut this tree down, but left the trunk and one branch to feed the birds. It's ain't the prettiest looking thing, but birds aren't as hoity-toity as we humans. Heck, they fly in and out, happy as you please. To them, it's the Waldorf Astoria. Some come in fancy attire, others in casual. We love them all. Like the saying goes, "the moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing." ~Eric Berne
Bird feeding is hubby's domain. He rigs up ways to keep the squirrels away, he cares for and fills the feeders, buys the bird seed, mixes the nectar, readies the wren houses each spring, the whole shmear. I'm around just for the fun of it.
So, who is the culprit that can straighten an S-hook, flip the feeder up on top of the roof of the one feeder, and empty the hummingbird feeder of its red nectar? A squirrel surely wouldn't be interested in sweet water, would it? Our main suspect is a raccoon, yet there is not one trace of evidence on the white wrapping that keeps the squirrels away.
For me, who doesn't have to put all this commotion back in order, it's funnier than funny. But, my best buddy is not quite so amused. I'm keeping all weaponry away from him until the case is solved. He was one heck of an aim in his younger years, and I'm sure he could shoot a gnat off a bird's butt if so inclined.
So, there is our day thus far. Filled with intrigue, angst, laughter, and mystery. Maybe we'll have to set up a night watch, where one of us sleeps and the other waits and watches. Right now, we're placing our bets that it's the masked bandit who's our night stalker. When, and if, we find out for sure, I'll let you know.