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Dalton
Roberts |
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After decades of
feeding birds, I may have to give it up. They are becoming too much like
people. My hummingbirds are a
good example. They fly up here in April but they are too persnickety to
drink sugar water until June or July. As long as the honeysuckle vines
are blooming, they fly right by your feeder. They did not stick the
first beak in my sugar water this year until July. This reminds me too
much of Aunt Louise. She knew when we killed chickens but you’d never
see her when we were eating chicken legs and backbones until we were all
clucking. But the day after we killed the first hog, here she would come
for a long visit. Her brats would beat on their plates for a big piece
of tenderloin and Aunt Louise would allow as to how she would “just
try a little piece of it, too.” Soon as we got down to the souse meat
and sausage, she was gone. Not satisfied to
merely show disdain for my sugar water, they are now cussing me. I am
not talking about little one syllable naughty words. I am talking about
those multi-syllable words they could only learn at a UT-Alabama
football game. I returned from an
out-of-town trip last Sunday and the sugar water was probably getting a
little tired. As soon as I sat down at my bird-watching window this
little spiffy dude in a bright green suit landed on the feeder. He took
one sip and looked me straight in the eye and said, “You *&^!**!!
slob, change my water!” Do not think I am
making this up. I took Hummingbird Lip Reading 101 and was close enough
to read his lips. I went right out and changed his water but he has
never looked at me again or said “thank you” the first time. Does
that not remind you of people? I am sick of his
temper tantrums and violence, too. After he had the feeder to himself
for over a week, a female hummer showed up and wanted a sip. He
viciously attacked her. Each time she has come for a drink, he has
repeatedly dive-bombed her. I will not have anything on my property that
reminds me of George W. Bush. If he keeps it up, I will have my
taxidermist put him on a little piece of walnut. I have taken all I am
going to take off that little twerp. Another thing my birds
do that reminds me of humans is to not stick with their diet. I
complained to the nice ladies at Wild Birds Unlimited about the finches
inhaling sunflower seeds and eating me out of house and home (I have no
idea where that phrase came from since my house is my home and will
remain such unless the birds gobble it up). They recommended safflower
seed, saying finches did not like it as well. So I bought the more
expensive safflower seed. What they failed to tell me was the doves love
it. Even though it is in a small feeder and they are not the smartest
things to ever pop out of an eggshell, they are smart enough to land on
the edge and shake the safflower down on the ground where the mow it
down like a Hoover sucking up popcorn. Adding to my dismay
over birds being too much like people, my sister has a retarded gay
talking bird named Charlie and I cannot stand him. But when he decides
to fall in love, guess whom he chooses for his cage-companion-to-be? Me!
He speaks my name as plainly as a bill collector. He cannot even say
“Charlie wants a cracker” but he can say “Dal-ton” and ring his
little bell, reminding me of the time the most homely girl in class fell
madly in love with me. I’ve had it with
birds and their people-like ways. Dalton's website is http://www.daltonroberts.com/
and his writings are gathered at http://www.ipsfeatures.com/
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