Demon watching.

I like birds. Just this morning I glanced out the living room window to see a magnificent goldfinch perched atop our feeder, singing the songs of ancient bird kings that warbled in the mists of Camelot, Edinburgh and the North Shore Auto Mall of Lynn Massachusetts. Of course, the second I looked away and then back again, a humongous squirrel with bulging peepers and a dirty tail had replaced the gold finch with its foul rat body teetering on the feeder like an elephant on a tightrope. So once again, a squirrel has ruined my day. Even this blog was supposed to be about birds and the majesty of flight, but now all I can think about is squirrels with their gawky eyeballs and twitching and tweaking. You know what? No. I am not going to let squirrels do this to me again. I am not going to allow their oafish behavior to upset me unnecessarily. If they want to stuff themselves with birdseed and scare away the pretty birds with their awkward bodies that’s their problem, not mine. I’ve already devoted too much time and energy ranting about squirrels to let them get the best of me all over again. I’ll just take a deep breath, consider the lillies and write about the inspiring sight of a noble cardinal surveying the garden like a royal winged watchdog- GET OFF THAT FEEDER YOU CHUBBY DEMON SPAWN! HOW’D YOU LIKE ME TO TURN YOU INTO A HAT???