Ahh. I see you have decided to enjoy your fast food at one of the outside tables. That is good.
Give me a french fry.
I am small, brave, and cute. I do not fear you. I want a french fry.
You will give me a french fry. I know this. I have much experience with humans and their french fries.
I will land on the table and look at you as imperiously as is possible for a bird my size to look. If a french fry should happen to fall from its bag onto the table, I will not hesitate to grab it in my tiny beak and fly off with it.
But, if it does not, I will sit on the table and stare at you.
You may as well give me the french fry now and save us both a lot of trouble.
If it’s anything like the wrens at the Sonic near my house, I’d say it got its french fry… there’s generations of the little buggers living in the hedges that swarm out anytime you toss a fry or a bit of bun anywhere near the greenery.
You are indeed small, brave and cute. You are also plump and juicy, you delectable little morsel, you.
While you transfix me with your imperious stare, my hamburger patty grows cold and dry. I am left with two still quite serviceable pieces of bun, a leaf of lettuce and a dollop of Ranch Dressing - er, “Secret Sauce”.
Have I mentioned how perfectly bun-sized you are? Perhaps a french fry may indeed fall from the bag and onto the table; hop forward in your quick birdlike way and take it! Ahh . . . delightful, delicious, but somehow unsatisfying.
You desire more.
I remove the dessicated protein slab from my bun. I place a french fry - fat, juicy and full of starchy goodness - in its place. A tempting morsel for a tempting morsel, n’est pas?
Jeepers, Genghis, what is it about you and eating small warm-blooded flying creatures? First it was bats, now it’s songbirds! Do you like crunching on lots of little bones or something?
In an episode of Seinfeld, Jerry commented about birds being the descendents of the mighty dinosaurs, who once proudly ruled the earth. “And look at 'em now, squabbling over a couple of french fries in the parking lot of McDonald’s.”
Plainly, some of us have never dealt with the little buggers in large numbers.
Down Texas way, they may be chickadees, but the locals calls 'em "piranhakeets." Last guy who got too close to the hedges with a bag of fries in his hand died a sudden and horrible death. Before anyone else could get close enough to help him, he was gone. Looked like he’d been beat to death with cheese graters. Not a pretty sight.
Although the birdies are cute. It’s their greatest weapon, you see.
Do it, or he’ll call for backup!
On our honeymoon, my husband and I went to Disney World. One of my favorite things was seeing the birds hopping around the floor inside the Crystal Palace. I remembered them from when I went with my family over 10 years ago and was delighted that they were still there!
I was afraid they might’ve devised a way to keep the little birdies out.
A couple years ago I saw a squirrel running around inside one of the cafeterias in Yellowstone. It’s against the rules to feed wildlife in the park but evidently some people do anyway and the squirrels come in to see if they can get a free meal.
At least it wasn’t aggressive, unlike a squirrel my aunt and I encountered in Florida that marched onto our picnic table and scared us into giving it our potato chips.
On the scenic 17-mile drive outside of Monterrey CA, the birds actually know the tour bus schedule. About 5 minutes before a tour bus is scheduled to stop, the birds start showing up at the bus stop. There are signs posted about not feeding the birds, but they get fed A LOT anyway.
Once when I was there, a woman from the bus was going around, almost in tears, begging people not to feed the birds. “Can’t you see the signs?” she pleaded, “feeding them is BAD for them.” When she told this to my brother, he said, “Tell it to the birds.”
What’s really funny is that in the parks in the Southwest there will be signs up telling tourists something along the lines of “Wild animals may carry the plague. Do not feed them!” And people will stand right next to the signs and feed the ground squirrels.
(And yes, bubonic plague does sometimes breakout amongst rodents out here, and, yes, people do occaisionally catch it.)
That’s why Disney quit doing the dove releases during the parades and special events: the hawks knew what time the on-the-wing buffet started. Watching a hawk munch down on a dove or homing pigeon that didn’t quit keep up with the flock was more than a bit horrifying to the tourists.
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