Perch On This

Todays Listening 🔊

The window of my office provides ample people watching opportunities, I've got my regulars (Small Dog, Large Man/Old Gangster/The Swole Twins) but I was craving something more.

So I put up what I call my 'bird pervert station'. A precariously suction-cupped bird-feeder with a hole in the back that allows me to leer at every blackbird, chiff chaff, goldfinch, robin, starling, sparrow, tit, thrush, and warbler that stops by. I am looking up all these bird names at the moment because I am not a bird person. I was looking forward to becoming one in an urban, not-leaving-my-desk sort of way.

Notice how between 'goldfinch' and 'robin' I expressly did not list pigeons as desired viewing. Notice how the simple size and construction of the bird box itself discourages the presence of such a creature. It is a small house, for small birds, with small appetites that would allow the mounds of feed I put out in the box to feed dozens of them. For weeks.

This pigeon, let us call them Paulie, does not care for my plans. They do not care for whom the box is intended for. Or how long feed should last. They do, however, follow a strict stretching and flexibility routine that has made them capable of contorting themselves within small spaces and eating every. single. seed. that I put out.

I fear there is not a bird box in this world that could keep Paulie out.