I can still picture a childhood friend’s mother with her head in her hands as she muttered: Oy Vey!  It’s a Yiddish expression indicating dismay or grief.  If only I could be satisfied with putting my head in my hands and muttering.  Oh no … no simple approach for me.  I have to go to war.

So, when the Black Birds landed on the nerves frayed by the Black Bear, out came the walkie talkies.  I broadcast my frustration over the airwaves.  This went on for a couple days until I had a headache and Drake was hoarse.  Drake came to associate the click of the walkie talkie mic with me being in peril (why else would I be freaking out!).  He was determined to bark-away the threat.  Pretty soon I quit yelling at the birds, and just held the walkie talkie up to Drake’s mouth.  He performed beautifully … until he lost his voice.

Next I got out the plastic-pellet gun, but it was only going to be a matter of time before I hit a Hummingbird.  FINALLY, I put my head in my hands and muttered:  Oy Vey!  All the implements of destruction were put away and construction began.  I was determined the “nice birds” were going to eat … and the black birds were not.  I started having fun … quite a lot of fun, actually.  The black birds?  They’re singing Oy Vey!

 

In the upcoming post, I will show you how the “nice birds” responded to the new look of the feeders.  Their song may be more like:  Folsom Prison Blues.