Feathered Felons

You come in such humongous flocks to lunch at my well stocked seed box. You stay until each grain is gone, call in the troops and journey on. Why are you such a greedy fellow, black-bird with wings of red or yellow? Your mate in her more subdued hue is too good for the likes of you. Her sweet demeanor doesn't scare the smaller feathereds feeding there, but you chase all except your own with beat of wing and shriek of tone. I try to save a little feed for the little fellows more in need; the wren, the finch, the chickadee who thought they could depend on me to feed them through the winter's cold. They can't compete with one so bold. When you have gone, I hurry out to scatter some more seed about, but sure as fate from the thin air you and voracious friends are there to gobble each nutritious bite and put the little ones to flight. Do you think, because of bright adorn that you deserve all of the corn? I know when the farmer plants his seed you'll find a better place to feed. The nuthatch and the sweet wren-tit can then sing songs and dine a bit. By: Joyce 2007