Natures Pecking Order 22

THE STORM BIRD

PARENT Currawongs Elvira and Gomez seemed to vanish into thin air not long after the birth of their (as I thought at the time) one chick. That one chick turned out to be five that have become quite active juveniles. I don't know if they are all Elvira's offspring or not, but they have happily settled down here anyway by the looks of it.

I have  lost track of who's who so I call the ones that appear to be female, 'Morticia' - they are a bit smaller but much braver than their chicken hearted brothers - The slightly larger and more scaredy cat ones I call 'Pugsley' - from the Adams Family. Yes this embarrassing gender difference runs in the currawongs too. See the story in 'Which Sex is Better.'

All the juvenile currawongs are gentle birds that are sociable with all the other birds in the crew, which proves that the interloper was a one off crazy Son-of-a-bitch bird. Click here to read about him.

It is so nice to see the same species of bird not disrupting the peace and quiet of the neighbourhood.

Pictured left is three of the young currawongs.

Anyway, one day I was sitting at my computer writing my next blog when out of the corner of my eye I saw a black bird sitting on the railing outside. I took little notice of it for I have a clear view of the balcony from my desk, so thought it was one of the currawongs.

They have yellow eyes but when I finally took a closer look at the visitor I saw a pair of deep red eyes glaring straight at me. It appeared to me to be thinking, 'Wow! Just what the hell is that horrible monster with no feathers doing staring back at me?'

It was very curious and after giving me the once over, hopped down and inspected the bread and meat bowls, then did a quick scout along the balcony taking in all the strange things that it saw there.

It never ate anything, it was just curious apparently as to what attracted all the other birds to spend so much time here.

I took a couple of photos but it was so timid I couldn't move from my chair and it was raining outside, so I had to take them through my rainy, grainy window - that's my excuse anyway.

One of my photos is shown at the right.

It then flew away and has not visited since - not to my knowledge anyway. I did some Google research and found that it was a 'Common Koel' (a type of Cuckoo) better known as a Storm Bird.

It is very shy and not often seen, so I gathered that it probably had not seen a human close up before either, which explains its look of utter disgust and amazement. (note picture above)

It is frequently heard, usually just before a storm, (hence the name Storm Bird, Duh!)  You can just imagine the old timers saying, "Bugger! There's that bloody Storm Bird again Mable, better get the washing off the line, rain's on its way."

Seriously though, it has a raucous, annoyingly loud call that once it is heard, you can never forget it. Click here to see and hear the call of the Storm Bird.

Its habitat is Papua New Guinea and the sub tropics of Australia down to Sydney apparently, so any reader from elsewhere will not be familiar with it. That may be a good thing I suppose - but maybe they are missing out on witnessing an amazing creature.

For mine, my very short interaction with the Storm Bird was a once in a lifetime special event where I got to meet another living creature face to face, a creature that is rarely seen by humans.

From now on, every time I hear its call I will remember this meeting  - I wonder if the St

orm Bird will remember too...

Dan’s Quote: "The only true law is that which sets us free."- Jonathon Livingston Seagull 

Top photo: A Storm Bird found on an internet search.

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 21

GREEDY GUTS'S

MEANWHILE back on the balcony railing, life is carrying on as normal. All my regular bird friends are healthy and well fed as they regularly frequent the hamburger stand for a tasty snack. Pictured above is Curi and her friend sitting alongside Mum and Dad.

From the very beginning I always made it a point to feed the birds by hand so as there was a personal connection and friendship between the birds and myself.

This I believed would not only allow them to accept the food I occasionally offered, but also to continue foraging in the wild as was their natural way regardless of whether the hamburger stand was open or closed.

To simply supply a container of food would, I believed at the time, have risked them becoming complacent about their natural foraging and slip into the habit of only feeding from the trough, so to speak - like some humans do - sad to say.

During the episode with the interloper and the ensuing exile of all the birds, they continued to survive quite happily in their natural environment, even Dad, whom I do believe did not confront the interloper for the sake of a meal so much as to make a stand against this usurper of his rightful territory.

Realizing this fact, I decided to try  putting out a small tray of softened bread, moistened with meat drippings as well as a small bowl of chopped up hamburger for the birds to peck at and see what happened.

This was more for me than them though, as when you are writing a story for a blog, it's disconcerting to have to constantly stop and hand feed a bird every time it squeaks or squawks at you through the doorway.

The one problem with providing accessible food outside my door is that it attracts all sorts of greedy mouths. I began by allowing the pigeons to feed but quickly found out that they hog the trough, crowding around and eating everything in sight until there is not a scrap left for any of the other birds.

Knowing there is a ready food supply, they don't bother foraging all that much, rather they tend to congregate on the railing waiting for me to restock the larder. To be fair, the pigeons aren't the only ones, there are other species of birds that I won't mention that do the same, but pigeons appear to be the worst.

This same thing happened to my neighbour at the other end of the units where she finished up having twenty or more pigeons perched on her railing, or sitting and shitting all over the floor, from daylight to dusk every day, waiting for her to throw a crust of bread.

I don't particularly like shooing away any bird but I quickly realized that if I continued to feed the pigeons, that would be it, they would take over the balcony and the rest of the crew would suffer as a consequence.

So regrettably, the pigeons have been banned - the only problem is the pigeons don't realize that, so there is an ongoing battle - One positive is that I get plenty of exercise, rushing about while wielding the broom.

The regular crew, including the currawongs (there are now five of them) happily share the bread and meat between them, taking a nibble here and there, then when satisfied, leave it for the next bird. One slice of bread and one chopped up hamburger could last most of the day.

It was this activity of the birds congregating around the bread and meat bowls that attracted the curiosity of a rarely seen but often heard Storm Bird, a curiosity so irresistible that it just had to investigate...

Dan’s Quote: “You have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now... 
_____________and nothing can stand in your way!"- Jonathon Livingston Seagull

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 20

CHEEP TALK

TIME to leave the birds again, for a little while at least so they can get on with their lives, but before I do, I would like to clear up a few points following the last chapter where I told the story about Chubby being so patient as she waited her turn to be fed, while Squeaky 'squeaked' impatiently, which was a bit unfair on Squeaky.

I have found over time that all the butcherbirds, male and female, are very patient and seem to know when it is their turn for a piece of hamburger. Squeaky squeaks to get my attention when he and Chubby first arrive - and then throughout the feeding he will continue to voice his presence, but he still politely waits his turn.

The only difference between him and Chubby is that she eats quietly and is trusting enough to come closer to the trough so to speak than Squeaky. All Squeaky's crew are patient too and only occasionally will one of them intercept a missile aimed at another bird but on the whole they are quite considerate of their offsiders.

Another point I didn't elaborate on is as I have found out, all the singers amongst Squeaky's crew seem to be male, which probably explains Squeaky's vocalizations. The females don't seem to have the need to tell everyone that they are there - Oops! Here we go again.

(Chubby is pictured at my door to the right and Squeaky is pictured in the top photo)

The males sing a beautiful sweet song that is a pleasure to hear as it lilts across the neighbourhood breeze. It must be a male thing for remember Donald, Mum and Dad's chick? He just loved to sing and yet his sister Daisy was never heard to make a peep - or should that be cheep?

Chubby is not mute, for although she doesn't squeak like her partner, she does quietly squeak thankyou every time she flies off after she has had enough, usually taking the last piece of hamburger back to her tree house with her. I am positive that that's what she is doing and it warms my heart to hear it.

She has also been inside my unit. Brucette is in the habit of coming in all the time and will perch up on top of my lounge chair to be hand fed a snack. (as she is doing, pictured left) I sometimes keep some hamburger close to the computer and leave my screen door open for that purpose.

Chubby also wanders inside occasionally although usually she stays on the carpet near the doorway, but one time when I had left the door open for Brucette and  I was engrossed in my blog writing, I suddenly felt I was being watched.

I looked up and there was Chubby, happily perched on my cooling fan, not an arms length from my left shoulder and right next to the computer, quietly watching me as I worked. I couldn't believe it.

I slowly reached for the hamburger meat I had set aside for Brucette but Chubby flew back to where she was used to being fed at the doorway, but it was lovely to realize that she was trusting enough to come so far into my abode and then patiently wait until I was ready.

Life is chock-a-block full of wonderful experiences like that...

Dan’s Quote: “Birds are a miracle because they prove to us there is a finer, 
_____________simpler state of being which we may strive to attain."- Doug Coupland

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 19

WHICH SEX IS BETTER?

DURING my association with the birds, I have come to a very ego shattering and difficult realization. As I have always tried to write this story truthfully and factually, for the birds sake, for they cannot tell their story themselves, it's time to 'fess up.

The fact is: 'Female birds are gutsier, braver, more daring and more trusting than their male counterparts.' There, I've admitted something than I have known underneath for a long time, but haven't had the guts to admit to myself - or to anyone else - but it is regretfully true.

The same female bravado runs through all the species of birds that visit my balcony railing. Although I never realized it at the time, the first to show her mettle was Chubby the butcherbird. She is the original Squeaky's partner.

( Chubby is pictured right)

While Squeaky was perched on the railing 'squeaking' impatiently to be served, Chubby would be quietly waiting on the floor at my door. When I opened it, she would not move, but wait and then sit either at (or nearly on) my feet or on the door track to be fed. I would literally drop the food into her open mouth.

She would patiently wait her turn while I fed Squeaky and any other birds that arrived in the meantime, no impatient squeaks escaped her beak, no looking with disdain at the other birds, she would simply wait, for she had the trust to know that I would serve her in her turn.

The same goes for  the magpies, the peewees and the noisy miners. There is a 'line in the sand' with all wild birds and if you cross it they will move away.

The female line is fairly close to them. I can get to almost but not quite touch Mum, Brucette, Curi, Chubby and the other female butcherbirds.

( Brucette is pictured perched on my head to the left)

The male 'line in the sand' is a fair distance from them, even for Squeaky, who has been visiting the railing from day one and was the reason for writing this story.

Dad's 'line in the sand' has moved further away from him ever since the time of the interloper where I bashed a stick of wood on the guttering scaring the living daylights out of him as well as the interloper.

It's the same with Bruce and Squeaky and the other males who haven't got a name, it is easy to tell what sex they are by how quickly they move away from you when they think you are getting a bit too close.

I have to literally throw the hamburger to the males, where with the females, I just need to toss it, as long as it leaves my hand before it reaches them, they are quite happy.

Brucette and Curi are exceptions to the rule for they are especially trusting and will perch on my lap and eat out of my hand but even then, rules still apply, they can touch me, but I can't touch them. ( Brucette and Curi are pictured on my knee below)

Brucette is jealous I feel, of the privilege she has with me and will actually show off to the other birds by perching on my head (as shown above) or hand as well as my lap if there are other birds being fed.
She will do this particularly if Mum and Dad are there - and God help Curi if she is caught on my lap when Brucette turns up - poor Curi gets the short shrift I can tell you.

Of course this raises another startling and horrible thought - Do the females of our own human species have the same bravado as the feathered variety?

In other words, are females of all species, humans included, more gutsier, braver and more trusting than us males? Are they in fact, better than us?

I believe that maybe the truth, that's what they keep telling us anyway...Bugger!...

Dan’s Quote: “I realized that If I had to choose, 
______________I would rather have birds than airplanes."- Charles Lindbergh

Header photo: Kookaburra Family by Ken Griffiths, New South Wales, Australia

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 18

HARD BOILED EGGS

THERE they all were, perched on the railing outside my unit, mouths agape in expectation of a free meal. (my unit's to the right with the screen door open) There was Squeaky and his crew, Mum and Dad, plus Bruce and Brucette who were hoovering the concrete for any near misses, as my throwing tends to be a bit off at times.

Suddenly a squawk that sounded like a chicken being strangled broke the peace and quiet, it was coming from the direction of the Old Bird's unit next door. (To the left of mine in the pic.)

I looked around in surprise and there she was at her front door, hands behind her back with an appalled look on her ashened face. 'What the hell's wrong with you I exclaimed.'

She looked at me as if she had just committed an horrendous crime and told me she had been watching me feeding the birds while peeling hard boiled eggs, when she suddenly realized what she was doing - right in front of the birds.

She had embarrassingly hid them behind her back hoping that the birds had not witnessed her desecration of their only means of reproduction.

I was stumped. There were no adequate words that I could utter, so I just blithered incoherently as she hastily beat a retreat into the depths of her unit and away from the judgemental eyes of the birds.

I looked around at the crew and for just a wee moment, felt that they might have indeed been upset, then I quickly came to my senses and with a jolt, suddenly thought to myself, 'I'm as silly as her - well almost, but not quite.'

The birds couldn't have cared less about a few eggs from some lower class common chooks, in fact during the whole time, their eyes never left my throwing hand readying themselves for the next acrobatic leap for a morsel of hamburger as they well knew my reckless aim.

It took quite some time before my neighbour became confident enough to face the world again, the birds especially. She confessed that she now realized just how silly she had been and that birds just haven't got the intelligence to be aware of such things.

But I have a strange suspicion that she will never peel another hardboiled egg outside of her kitchen ever again, but I could be wrong...

Dan’s Quote: “It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds."- Aesop

  

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 17

CATCHING UP

THE PEACE AND QUIET of the countryside was reinstated during the time of my writing 'The Library' for 'Mind WorX.' The kerfuffle's with the interloper and the poltergeist are now long gone and forgotten - as far as the birds are concerned anyway.

Elvira finished up having one chick that has since fledged, although it hasn't visited the balcony railing for a feed since it has become independent as far as I know.

Elvira's new boyfriend has remained here with her. Unlike his predecessor, he is gentle and rather shy, so only visits the balcony looking for scraps if I am not around. Elvira only visits occasionally now her chick has fledged but she has let herself fall to pieces.

Pictured left, she can only be described as 'unkempt', looking as though she's been put through a tumble dryer. Maybe now she has a hubby, she thinks she doesn't need to keep up the beauty treatment - I've known females like that, haven't you?

Poor old Dad - The stress of his run in with the interloper has left a permanent scar on him and he has grown old and crotchety because of it.

You never think about birds growing old but because of my daily interactions with him, I have noticed the decline in his body and temperament.

His feathers at the back of his head are turning grey and spindly would you believe and he has a lot of trouble chewing his hamburger - as if he is toothless - Yes I know that sounds stupid, birds don't have teeth, but that's the way he reacts. He bashes each morsel against the concrete with his beak until it's small and pulverised enough to swallow.

I spend most of the time standing like a statue in mid hamburger toss waiting for him to finish. Lucky Mum magpie is still hale and hearty, so if she is there, my tossing hand has something to do while I wait for her husband to eat.

Squeaky and his crew still number around five and they remain regular visitors. Bruce and Brucette have created another dynasty with new chicks. I named them Heckle and Jeckle until I found out Jeckle was a female so I re-christened her 'Jeckelette.'

The noisy miner birds have now become part of the family, frequenting the balcony throughout the day with their noisy but pleasant chirping.

One of them I named 'Curi', short for curious, (no not after Suri Cruise) because she is so curious about all the goings on and ins and outs of life on the balcony that she will squat like a little fluffy ball on the railing as shown in the picture to the left, or on the floor, completely mesmerised with what the other birds or I am up to.

A kookaburra also visits the hamburger stand occasionally, he/she's pictured in the top photo waiting to be served. There are also some lorikeets that visit and the resident pigeons are causing me some angst at the moment, but I'll tell you about that later on, all in all though, things are going pretty good.

I still have to tell you the funny story about the hard boiled eggs, but I now try to keep my blogs a bit shorter, so that will have to be told next time...

Dan’s Quote: “What a kid I got, I told him about the birds and the bees 
_____________and he told me about the butcher and my wife."- Rodney Dangerfield

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 16

DEATH SENTENCE

THE SKY appeared to be awash with countless noisy black birds that flew over our neighborhood for a day or two after the interloper's reign ended. I couldn't tell if Elvira was one of them for they all looked alike, but I suspected she was the one in front, being chased.

In hindsight, I believe they must have been bachelor currawongs that had come a courting from near and far, but how they had got wind of the fact that there was a newly widowed female up for grabs I will never know. Mother Nature's bush telegraph sure works in mysterious ways.

There were birds flying about everywhere, squawking out their raucous, grating calls to each other but eventually, whatever was happening, happened, the currawongs dispersed and everything settled back down to quietude. I guessed that one of the bachelors had won first prize.

After that, Elvira stopped calling in for food to feed her chicks, or even to feed herself and instead flitted about the treetops with her

new mate like a dizzy dithery teenager. I noticed that she had ceased going to her nest altogether, even to check her brood and I wondered how her chicks were fairing.

The nest was too far up in the camphor laurel tree for me to do anything even if I could for I now get a bout of acrophobia at about the height of the seat of a kitchen chair, so forebodingly, I let nature take its course.

Inspecting the nest with binoculars and seeing no more signs of life, I came to the sorry conclusion that the fate of the chicks had been no different than for most other young animal species that loses the father.

For instance, if a lion pride loses the male for any reason, when the lioness takes on a new mate, it will immediately kill all the cubs produced by the last male so as to ensure that only his progeny continues on.

This must have been what had happened to Elvira's chicks. The new boyfriend would never consider rearing some other males offspring, so its first task after consummation of their bond would have been to destroy the interlopers chicks.

I believe I had unwittingly witnessed this when Elvira last visited her nest. She was in company with her new mate, perched together on a nearby branch and I suspect, that was around the time the dirty deed was done.

How Elvira stood by and let this happen is another one of nature's mysteries, but I guess she instinctually understands the natural laws better than I. Now, not only was the schizophrenic interloper dead and gone, so was his progeny and any risk of his craziness being passed on.

At the time I was very apprehensive that this new boyfriend in residence at the currawong lodge might be as crazy as the last one and mayhem would return to our once more peaceful neighborhood.

I had no need to worry though, this new buck was nearly as big and ugly as his predecessor but he turned out to be normal and most importantly peaceful, which proved to me that the interloper was definitely a one off, a few sheep short in the top paddock so to speak.

Life once again settled back down to normalcy, Elvira began to build a new nest and prepare for another go at motherhood and the Bruce family of peewees suddenly got a hankering for hamburgers.

A family of Noisy Miner Birds, who are very cute and daring (one is pictured on my lap at the right) began visiting the hamburger stand --- and there also was an incident concerning hard boiled eggs...

Note: The header picture is of fledgling butcher birds and the young chicks in the nest are actually peewees, the same family as the Bruces.

Dan’s Quote: “Although Mother Nature may appear harsh and uncaring, the only reason
_____________life still exists on Earth is because her rules are followed."- DJB

  

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 15

NATURE RULES

SILENCE hung heavy in the air as I slumped back in my deckchair and contemplated the events that had just unfolded. It had only been a few short hours since the interloper's demise and I was still in disbelief that it was finally over. Was it true? Had the demon returned to the hell fire and brimstone from whence it came?

There was still no birdsong floating in on the breeze and I wondered to myself if my friends would ever be brave enough to return or would they stay clear just in case the evil black tyrant reappeared to attack and terrorise them once more.

The chop-chop of a rescue helicopter broke the silence as it made for the roof of Nambour Hospital just to the west of my unit block to unload some poor unfortunate patient. Then the rumble of a train added to the cacophony as it approached Nambour Station, an equal distance to the east.

I was lost in my reverie, unaware of anything more than my thoughts and the mechanical sounds that assailed my eardrums when I cast a casual glance ahead and there perched on the railing were three of Squeaky's crew, quietly but intently watching me.

In astonishment and relief I yelled out to the Old Bird next door, 'The little buggers are back!' My yell startled them - and the Old Bird too - but the birds soon settled back with a look that said, 'Well, you big ugly unfeathered bonehead, open up the shop, we're hungry.'

Next door stood there with a contented smile on her face as I served up hamburgers galore to the welcome visitors. Not long after that, Mum and Dad returned (Dad is pictured to the right of Mum) and very quickly things returned to normal - as if their term of exile had never happened.

For awhile, there were a few cautious looks before the birds flew off, but soon they didn't bother, all except for Dad. He suffered the most from the interloper's attacks and for a long time, cast a furtive look over his left shoulder each time he prepared to fly off to his tree house.

He has never really got over it. Added to his trauma was the fact that every time I whacked the roof guttering with the piece of wood to scare off the interloper, Dad was there. His little bird brain could never comprehend that I was doing it to scare his adversary not him, rather, he thought that he was the target.

To this day, he treats me with caution unless I'm standing still or sitting down. All was normal again though, Elvira continued to grab takeaways to feed her chicks and knowing where her nest was, I regularly grabbed my binoculars to take a look at her fast growing babies.

Their little yellow beaks gaped hungrily up to her when she arrived with the tucker, then disappeared below the nests rim to quietly await the next delivery.

But their little lives would now be in jeopardy, for as I was to discover – in our world that follows Mother Nature's rules, 'Chicks without a father were at grave risk'…

Dan’s Quote: “We falsely believe that man creates the law of the land that we live by...
________When in essence, all life on Earth lives predominately by Nature's law."- DJB

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee

Natures Pecking Order 14

JUST DESSERTS

DAWN'S GOLDEN fingers of light probed seductively into the inner sanctum of my darkened bedroom, wantonly prying and piercing through the cracks in my tightly closed vertical blinds and tantalisingly raising me up from the depths of my night's slumber.

It was mid spring on the beautiful Queensland Sunshine Coast and the warmth caressed me slowly to full arousal. I idly stretched, then satisfyingly scratched my nether parts as I slowly made my way, as was my habit, to the front patio doors. Opening them, I then strolled nonchalantly out onto the balcony to greet the morning sun.

I casually drank in the familiar vista that faced me as I leaned lazily on the railing and began to form a wide and noisy yawn which was interrupted half way through as I noticed something strange in the carport on the other side of the driveway.

'What in the hell is that?' I thought. It looked like a black ball of some sort. I wondered if one of the other tenants had thrown a bit of rubbish towards the bins, missed and couldn't be bothered picking it up. 'Lazy buggers' I said to myself, then suddenly the black ball moved ever so slightly.

It was more of a shuffle, or waddle, like a duck with no feet. This was getting stranger by the minute. I stealthily moved up towards the stairs, keeping a close eye on this alien image. It must have saw me for it moved again, still in a legless shuffle and away towards the back of the carport.

As I got a bit closer, I saw one beady yellow eye peeking out from the black ball looking straight up at me. I crept a little closer and recognition suddenly dawned on me.

'This must be The Interloper' I exclaimed in surprise, to no one in particular, 'but why crouch down in the carport like that?' The nearer I got, the more certain I became. This was indeed, The bloody Interloper.

It glared up at me with a look of abject hatred and loathing, as if I was to blame for the predicament it was in. Although not warranted, there was certainly no love lost between us for I had given it as harder time as I could whenever it attacked Dad or any of the other birds.

Being a typical despot, it was in reality a craven coward that hid behind a false facade of brutality and intimidation. I had found that out, for the only way I could deter it from attack was to bash noisily on the roof guttering with a piece of wood.

This made him flinch and his wings twitch in fear every time I did this and it slunk to a higher and higher branch of the tree giving the birds a slight chance to get away unscathed.

The goose bumps began creeping up my spine as I realized I was a bit scared. 'Big sook' I mumbled to myself, so I decided to leave the bastard alone for awhile and see what happened.

When I reached my front door, I looked back and it had waddled to the back wall of the carport where Elvira was facing him, squawking loudly and dancing about wildly in agitation.

Was she bereft at the thought of losing her mate, or was she saying to him, 'Serves your right you vicious mongrel?' I will never know of course, but soon after that, as I was making my morning coffee, I heard a blood curdling screech coming from the direction of the park, a sound that lasted a good minute or two and made my hair stand on end.

I've never heard the call of a banshee, but I could well imagine that the sound I heard was pretty close to that. Then The Intruder was gone for good. It took quite a while for that fact to sink in, but he has never returned.

What killed him I don't really know, maybe he was poisoned or maybe another bird finally retaliated against his brutality, or then again, maybe it was Elvira herself that rid us (and her) of the tyrant. But Elvira's troubles were not over by any means...

Dan's Quote: "Just desserts are far sweeter for the giver 
_____________than they are for the receiver."- DJB

This post can be read on Windows live as Mind WorX which then publicizes it to Yahoo Updates, Facebook, Linkedin, Messenger Connect and my Twitter account as Randidee