. . . because this man is now on the loose!
You may remember our recent bird wars. It all started with my benign intent to get Doug to relax more; you know, watch little birdies, hear them sing, be one with nature, etc.
Except then he took up this vendetta against the squirrels eating the bird food, stealing the bird suet, and took to chasing the squirrels around the yard. But what's really getting to Doug is the massive amount of bird seed he is now trucking into our garage, slaving away under the hot (not!) sun, filling multiple bird seed feeders, with the sleek, black, uniformed Gackles shouting "Faster! Faster!" at him.
But now this lone guy is fighting back and has taken up arms against the masses! He wants to feed the "good birds," the brightly colored little finches and orioles and robins and swallows, and get rid of some of the greedy Gackles. He bought a 1000 FPS with PSA amo Nitro 17 and is thinking long and hard about heading into the yard with it.
Long and hard.
Thinking. . . .
Because it sounded like a good idea. But last night, Doug woke up with a nightmare that he'd somehow put the bullets, pellets, whatever they're called, in his mouth. . . and they had lead in them. . . and this was going to kill him, so he tried to vomit them out of his mouth. . . or some such thing.
I've started obsessing about, "What if you shoot one and they bleed blood onto the ground, and Bonnie gets into it and gets rabies. . . ?"
We live in hunting country. People drive these big pick-ups with gun racks, and haul deer carcasses, hanging them upside down in their garages, usually causing me to have to drive blocks out of my way to approach my house from a direction that won't bring my past strung up dead things.
We're so out of our element!
Stay tuned; I suspect there will be more to this story. . .