treehat

The stickers are still proving completely useless in deterring Mr. Thudnk from his glass assaults. The next step was, of course, incredibly logical.

Bring out the plastic owl!

It works for about 10 minutes each day. Thudnk will start his bombing run, then abort when he sees the glass eyes staring out of plastic sockets at him. Eventually, though, he realizes that the owl isn't actually alive, and so resumes the cacophony. We get the 10 minute rest whenever the the owl is moved, but that gets old fast. So we hung it on the tree branch with a string.

Ignore, if you will, that this means the owl is hovering four feet off the ground. True, it might not make for realism, but I'm sure it adds quite a bit of creepiness. An owl sitting on the ground is one thing, but when it's hovering in the air, slowly twirling, you know that bird is one you don't want to mess around with.

For the record, I still think we should install lasers in its eyes. Fear the plastic cyborg owl!


Anyway, he's gotten less active recently, but I think that's more tied to the temperature drop. It's hard to idiotically attack things when you're cold. Some things are just more important.

I also think this bird has a grudge against us. One day, when he was doing his Thudnking, I fired the foam-disc/sound-effect gun at him. He just turned his back to me and squatted down on the branch, and then turned his head, and I swear, the bastard glared at me. I'm being given the evil eye by a bloody thrush!

Mr. Thudnk has eluded all attempts to stop him from crashing into the window. We believe he may be aided by anti-glass conspirators.

This has progressed from a small skirmish with a bird to an all-out battle against the feathered fiend. Today, in the morning, we thought that removing the screen from the window might take care of the reflection issue. Mr. Thudnk took no notice. So, we replaced the screen and taped a garishly colorful napkin left over from my birthday yesterday. Not that it mattered much:
Ooh, pretty colors! But that won't distract me, nope. I PECK AT THEE! *THUNDK*
Time for the secret weapon, the color-based warfare method code-named "Blue Ribbon"*. We tacked it to the outside frame of the window, where it went to work.
. . . And immediately proceeded to get caught in the rain gutter. (Damn new technology, never acts like it should.) That was fixed shortly, and it promptly leapt into action!
. . . Which, of course, had no effect whatsoever:
Ahg! What's this fluttery thingy-ma-doohickey? It must be that other bird's tactic. But he won't stop me! I cannot be distracted by such petty things. CHAAAARGE! *THUNDK* *THUDNK*

We are now up to IBCON** 2.



* Okay, so really it's just a blue ribbon. But that doesn't sound as impressive, does it? No, no it doesn't.
** Irritating Bird Condition

So. I've been gone a month and a half. It's fascinating, really, how when you swear off blogs and journals, your interest in them seems to triple. So, on that note, here's a couple links to enjoy before today's anecdote.

The BSG cast, Simpsons-style.

"I can't control the Rainbow Doom!"

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In other news, we have a robin outside the dining room that isn't quite right in the head. At all. Here's what I think his though process must be:
*yawn* What a wonderful day! Time to build a nest... Hey! Who are you? Get out of my tree!
At this point, he attacks the "other" bird.
*flap-flap THUDNK flap-flap-flap* Hey! Get outta my tree, you twit! *flap-flap THUDNK flap-flap THUDNK THUD flap-flap-flap*
Repeat about fifty times. Nowhere, during any of this, does he stop or realize he is attacking his own reflection. So, after getting irritated by the constant *THUDNK ... THUDNK ... THUDNK ... THUDNK* all morning, we try to scare him off. It continues:
Ack! Big person! I'll just flap over to the next branch until they go away... It's you again! Die, bird! *THUDNK*
It. Never. Stopped. Eventually, after lunch, I grabbed my cheap air cannon and walked outside to do battle with Mr. Thudnk. For his own good, of course. Not that he would listen to reason:
*THUDNKYDUNK* Eh? Who's that? Eek! It has a ... um ... uhh ... large blackish thing. I'll just flap over to the other branch. *SWOOOSH* Hm, nice breeze. Oh, he's still there. I'll hop over here. That's odd. Those leaves just moved. Damn, he's still there. Alright, then, I'll hop over . . . HERE!
Repeat a few more times. (It should be noted I never managed to hit Mr. Thudnk, since both the air cannon and myself are incredibly innaccurate.) I gave up and went inside, and the THUDNKing resumed the nanosecond the door closed. About an hour later, we decided it was time to bring out the big guns. So we got out the cruise-missle of bird scaring: a Boston Pops CD. After a few seconds of that, he scurried off across the yard. Victory!

...Nope. He came back shortly after the music was done. So he continued on with it, going THUDNK ... THUD ... THIDNK ... THUDNK ... THUDNK. I think he's still going.
All the while, poor Mr. Thudnk is thinking You bloody persistant bird! Why won't you give up?
He is a birdbrain among birdbrains.