And now, back by popular demand, more
I haven't been checking on the birds very consistently. They make me nervous. But here are the latest photos.
They move! I always knock on the grill before I open it. Because, you know, it's only polite. And if that so happens to scare off any birds that may or may not fly into my face when I open it, I'm okay with that, too. So I knock… and wait, and then slowly open the grill. One of the birds was right at the opening, but you can see that he hopped on away from me and into the lid of the grill. There are still three birds. Well, I should say, there were… three birds.
Then the boys opened the door and let Tabby out onto the deck. She scared them and one flew out of the grill and onto my deck chair. I screamed, it crapped, and then flew off the deck into the back yard. Okay, good, so they can fly. Sort of. Or at least land safely away from the dog. Whew.
Another one jumped right onto the deck and into Tabby's mouth. I screamed. I said, "Bad Dog!" I said, "Drop it!" I screamed some more. The boys came running. Someday they'll be able to rescue me. But not today. I ran inside and closed the screen door. Tabby, the good dog that she is, just held that bird in her mouth triumphantly. I grabbed my camera.
It's almost a cute picture if it weren't for the half dead bird in Tabby's mouth. She just sat at the screen door, proud and ready to show me her latest catch. By now the bird was no longer screeching. And I wasn't either.
I had to make Tabby drop the bird. I got a treat and tried to bribe her to drop the bird to get the treat. That meant I had to open the screen door just inches from them both. I cracked the door and threw out the treat. She's a smart dog, she knew she already had a better treat. She didn't drop the bird.
After yelling for her to "DROP IT!" for a minute or so, I realized that I was going to have to use my hands. I pulled up Tabby's cheeks. I pulled on the skin on the back of her head… I prayed. The bird in her mouth cocked its head and looked at me. I was its only rescuer. She dropped it. I grabbed her by the collar and put her outside. The half dead bird hopped under my fire pit, where it is still.
Then I remembered that first bird that hopped out of the grill and down into the back yard. I knew Tabby would go looking for it. I went out on the deck hoping she wouldn't find it. I watched her sniff around the back yard, and then heard it. The screech of a dying bird. Tabby had found it. I yelled again, yada yada yada, she dropped the bird in the back yard. Look how proud she is.
I dragged Tabby back into the garage. I'm not letting a killer like her with bird germs in her mouth back into my house. But I can't let her in the back yard with that bird again.
I got my paper bag and plastic bag covered shovel (I'm going to have to use that again someday, you know) to go remove the bird from the back yard. As I approached it, it too looked up at me. This was not a dead bird, this was a half dead bird.
I didn't think there would be anything worse than a maggot infested dead bird. I was wrong. A half dead bird still needs to be removed from the area, only it moves. I called Randall. He said he'll deal with it when he gets home. I guess I'm taking Tabby out on a leash for the rest of the day.