Author Archives: packbawky

Menu for Hungry Falcons

  By packbawky | 06/07/2013 - 5:41 pm |
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Hey, falcons — any of you out there, looking for a snack? Don’t settle for the first skinny starling or frail flicker to happen by. Come and get this MASSIVE PIGEON, which is not only enormous (and delicious; come on — even I want to eat it!), but a bit of a bully. It likes to puff up that great shiny throat of its, and chase other birds from the feeder, while making obnoxious cooing noises. It even chases the other pigeons, which is hardly fair play. You falcons are more than welcome to this pigeon, especially if you eat it right there on the railing, then sit and preen a while, so I can take pictures.

A fat, tasty PIGEON!

A fat, tasty PIGEON!

Maybe I’ll eat it, myself. It’s been a while, since I’ve had a nice pigeon pie. Pigeons are expensive, here, probably because most people don’t know they’re edible, so grocery shops have to import them for those few diners aware of the lowbrow comforts of four-and-twenty winged rats, baked in a pie.

(I am, of course, joking about eating the pigeon. Noshing on wild birds doesn’t seem like a particularly safe or humane proposition. And if I’m going to have a pie, I’d prefer quail or pheasant. Or turkey. But a turkey’s awfully big. I couldn’t eat a whole turkey, by myself. How did this entry become about poultry pies?)

I didn’t get outside, today; I’m still rather sneezy, and there are flowers everywhere, pollen drifting on the breeze like, eh…a very itchy, drifting thing —

— wait, a very itchy, drifting thing? What’s that, a tramp who hasn’t had a change of underpants, in a while? This sentence took a wrong turn, somewhere; where was I? Oh, right —

— I didn’t get outside today, because of pollen, but I swear I will, tomorrow. I’ll pop out while my pie’s in the oven. :-)

A FALCON ate my STARLING!

  By packbawky | 05/07/2013 - 9:15 pm |
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This morning, nice and early, I was still in bed, watching my starling strutting up and down the railing, near the feeder. He’d just frightened off a pack of sparrows, and was gloating — y’know, puffing out his little chest, making self-satisfied chortling noises, all that sort of thing. I felt a certain kinship with him, at that moment. I behave in much the same fashion, when I’ve just made some little accomplishment. I opened my mouth to say “Good on ya, Mr. Starling,” but even if I’d made it that far, he’d never have heard it: in the very instant I thought to speak, down came the falcon. It was the most graceful breakfast grab I’ve ever seen; I’ll give him that. He never even landed, all the way. He swooped in, sank his talons into the starling’s back, and was off on the next wingbeat, up and away. I think he must’ve pierced something vital, with those great hooked claws of his. The starling never made a peep.

Now, I recognise that the falcon’s got to eat, and indeed, wish him happy dining, but I’ve two little beefs with his behaviour. All falcons on the Internet — peregrine, gyr, and otherwise — take note, for future reference:

1) That starling you ate was the fruit of months of coaxing, tempting, seedbag-shaking, whistling, holding up plates of suet, and otherwise courting its attention. It had not yet had time to whistle up other starlings. I may never coax a starling to my balcony, again. Couldn’t you have had one of the sparrows, or maybe a nice, plump finch? I’ve got loads of those.

2) This balcony is a sit-down restaurant, not a drive-through. You eat; you get photographed. That’s the deal. No grab-and-runs, particularly if you’re beautiful. Which you are, Mr. Starling-Eating Peregrine Bugger.

3) If you absolutely must nosh on my less common visitors, at least wait till I’ve added a few good shots of them to my collection! I’d been avoiding photographing the starling too much, so it would get comfortable coming here, and bring more starlings. See what patience gets you!

The last (rather mediocre) picture I took of my starling, before the neighbourhood falcon got him. A rather poor memorial, I must say!

The last (rather mediocre) picture I took of my starling, before the neighbourhood falcon got him. A rather poor memorial, I must say!

(Regular updates on birdie high society, and on my outdoor adventures, shall resume tomorrow. I’ve been languishing under the rigours of a miserable cold, but I’m now…languishing slightly less.)