I like birds. I
really do. They are pretty. They sing beautifully.
My neighbors on the floor above our apartment feed the
birds. The balcony is made of slats of
boards, and sunflower seed shells fall through the cracks constantly. I get to sweep up the residue without the
pleasure of seeing the birds. At least I
don’t get the bird crap. It doesn’t fall
through!
I used to think birds ate the whole seed. I never knew they shelled them until many
years ago when my daughter owned parakeets.
Those fine feathered miscreants could have been on piece rate for their
seed shelling skills. They threw the
hulls on the floor. Then, for icing I
guess, they shook their downy feathers through the cage bars.
When they got a new cuttlebone (which they must have, along
with vitamin drops in their water and vitamin supplements in their seed so
that they could keep up their energy for throwing seed shells and shaking off
feathers), they creatively mixed white powder with the feathers and seed hulls.
Springtime is here.
People are doing bird counts and stuff.
Just let me look at them. That’s
close enough.
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