Pulling birds, pulling teeth, and not pulling any punches... it's Mike Lockley
Nov 12 2007
"What have you been eating that’s blue?" she asked, as the suction pipe wrestled with my tonsils.
Those were my underpants. That’s how far down she’d got that pipe.
By Mike Lockley
THE grim battle to ‘outdo’ them next door has taken an ornithological twist.
I started putting nuts out for the birds.
They started putting nuts out for the birds.
I festooned the apple tree with fat balls and bacon rinds. Next thing I know, he’s hanging up bigger fat balls in a special fat ball container. Bloody show-off.
Despite chucking money at the venture, I’m still pulling more birds than he is: to date, I’ve had great spotted woodpecker, nuthatch, goldfinch, siskin and even a bullfinch on my bird table.
"Iiiit’s a bullfinch," I shouted smugly over the lattice work fence as a collection of rather tatty blue tits and starlings pecked at his titbits.
Now our two back gardens resemble an explosion in a greengrocers, with bits of food hanging from every available branch, seed and cereal scattered on the floor.
Yesterday, the Mary Poppins-style standoff took a dark turn. "Rat!" screamed the wife.
It was, too. A great big, fat, brown one, in broad-daylight, as bold as you like, eating the rice crispies we’d scattered.
As I charged through the patio windows, a voice from over the fence shouted smugly: "Iiiit’s a rodent."
