Why Mildred?!! Why?!?!?!
So I get home yesterday expecting the chicklings to be DOA. To my suprise they were alive, at least one of them was moving, and Mildred was back. It seems her maternal instincts may have taken a little longer to kick in then expected. She seemed to be doing the right thing and nesting over them so as to keep them warm. So I decided I would help the lil feller's out and give some food at pecking distance to Mildred to feed them. I ripped up some whole wheat bread and cut up an apple and placed it in the "condo-bird cage" I concocted for them.
As usual, I checked on the pigeon family before hitting the sack. All seems well, as Mildred was back in her maternal position of perching over the nest. To my dismay, this morning upon checking on them, I noticed that Mildred dragged a piece bread over chickling numero uno and sat on it. Now, we all know when you take a piece of bread, a fresh piece at that, and press it onto something, it will just smoosh onto it. Low and behold, chickling numero uno seems to have died from the forced feeding of Mildred and her making an iron mask out of whole wheat bread. Let's have a moment of silence for chickling numero uno aka Homer...
Ok, so chickling numero dos, let's call it Banky. Banky seemed to be somewhat still alive, but Mildred invited her pigeon posse of poo dropping friends and they seemed to have been feasting all night and a good part of this morning on the apples and bread distributed and intended for the better of the pigeon chicklings... they were so full and glutton-like they didn't even leave the nest or attempt to use the outhouse we call the world because there is a whole new world of pigeon crap on my balcony now.
So I've decided if Banky doesn't pull through as a result of the greed of Mildred and her chicken-head pigeon friends, I'm going to give both Banky and Homer a proper burial and sweep the nest over the edge of the balcony, remove the nest and any form of food from the immediate area. Matter of fact, I'm going to train Z (my bulldog) to attack all pigeons henceforth. Going forward, no pigeons will be allowed to land on my balcony. In addition, I shall have to purchase an airgun of sorts to shoot down any pigeon that enters my airspace of the balcony for my version of homeland security... this is my home, you're not invited nor will be tolerated as a result of past crimes, hence heirgo thus, you're dead...
This will become the law of the land, so let it be written, so let it be read, so let it be done.
As usual, I checked on the pigeon family before hitting the sack. All seems well, as Mildred was back in her maternal position of perching over the nest. To my dismay, this morning upon checking on them, I noticed that Mildred dragged a piece bread over chickling numero uno and sat on it. Now, we all know when you take a piece of bread, a fresh piece at that, and press it onto something, it will just smoosh onto it. Low and behold, chickling numero uno seems to have died from the forced feeding of Mildred and her making an iron mask out of whole wheat bread. Let's have a moment of silence for chickling numero uno aka Homer...
Ok, so chickling numero dos, let's call it Banky. Banky seemed to be somewhat still alive, but Mildred invited her pigeon posse of poo dropping friends and they seemed to have been feasting all night and a good part of this morning on the apples and bread distributed and intended for the better of the pigeon chicklings... they were so full and glutton-like they didn't even leave the nest or attempt to use the outhouse we call the world because there is a whole new world of pigeon crap on my balcony now.
So I've decided if Banky doesn't pull through as a result of the greed of Mildred and her chicken-head pigeon friends, I'm going to give both Banky and Homer a proper burial and sweep the nest over the edge of the balcony, remove the nest and any form of food from the immediate area. Matter of fact, I'm going to train Z (my bulldog) to attack all pigeons henceforth. Going forward, no pigeons will be allowed to land on my balcony. In addition, I shall have to purchase an airgun of sorts to shoot down any pigeon that enters my airspace of the balcony for my version of homeland security... this is my home, you're not invited nor will be tolerated as a result of past crimes, hence heirgo thus, you're dead...
This will become the law of the land, so let it be written, so let it be read, so let it be done.
posted by Never A Dull Moment at 10:16 AM
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