Parrothead Ramblings

I'm gonna take you down to Chinatown.

For Christmas this year, Mrs. Crime Dog bought me this very cool telescope/spotting scope. It was built by some Leningrad outfit, and man, can those Russkies make a scope. This thing is incredible, especially for viewing wildlife. It also seems to have taught all my neighbors to keep their blinds drawn. Now, that’s not fair. Just one (OK, maybe two or three) itty-bitty little ol’ spud gun ‘accidents,’ and now they watch me like a bunch of hawks. But anyway, I decided to try and lure more birds in close to my home, so I can watch and photograph them from this big picture window that overlooks my backyard. I put in a big-ass redwood post, and then hung a bird feeder on it. Simple. Next thing I know, my yard looks like St. Mark’s Square – pigeons everywhere. The HORROR! Now, I’m a live and let live kind of guy. I don’t hunt, because I ain’t really cool with killing animals for sport. I’m cool with others doing it. Hell, there isn’t much that's better than a big ol’ bowl of Bambi Chili. I just don’t want to be the guy who drops the hammer, that’s all. But I have to draw a line in the birdseed somewhere. Winged rats are where that line is drawn. I have a pellet gun I’ve used to enforce a no-fly zone around my house for several years, but only for pigeons. Less offensive critters are more than welcome. I didn’t have to cap all that many of them before word got out in the feathered community. Somehow, the cute little birds figured out they had nothing to fear, but the pigeons stopped showing up. That is, until I put a big ol’ bird feeder in my yard, thus opening up an avian soup line. It seems kind of unethical to shoot the little bastards after luring them into my yard with chow, doesn’t it? So, what’s a Crime Dog to do? Well, I’m pleased to report that the problem has taken care of itself. Rescue came in the form of a mass of gray fur that lives in my backyard. I don’t allow Road Kill, so named because of the cadaver-like way she sleeps, into the house. My house is a feline-free area. Road Kill in particular seems to have a penchant for pissing on the carpet, and I prefer she do that in the backyard. Hell, even I like to do that in the backyard. That’s another reason my neighbors have been keeping an eye on me. But I digress. Road Kill is a dandy little hunter, but she has trouble intercepting the speedy little F-14 and F-18 birds. The lumbering C-5’s though? No problem. They come in to munch on some free grub, and Road Kill turns them into a hot lunch. Again, the winged version of the coconut telegraph started humming, and voila! My pigeon problem disappeared faster than a bucket of Extra Crispy. Nice job, Road Kill. But your ass is still confined to the outdoors.

You know, I almost wish the pigeons had kept coming in. Birdseed is like, way cheaper than cat food. I guess you just can’t have it all.
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