My sister thought this bird might be egg bound. I think that's like having a constipated pregnancy? It sounds awful and drives straight to your pity basket. The one that resides near the heart. So your P.B. spikes and suddenly you feel this urge to catch the bird, put a good squeeze on it's upper belly region, and then push down like you would a tube of toothpaste. I mean, that'll get the egg out right? Then I won't have a crazed bird shitting all over our windows and deck? Because that would be great! The old Win-Win situation. Yeah.
Except Shit-Blaster is back and I'm serious....this bird hopped on the deck rail while I sat at the patio table, and squawked, "Hey. Hey. Hey you. Do you have any pellets? Any lead pellets? I prefer them to enter one eye and exit out the other. Soooo.... what can you do for me?"
That's what I heard. Honest Abe. Scout's Honor and all. I'll be buying a Crossman before the week's up. And DON'T WORRY... I'll ship it to Ethiopia for you who are worried about a perfectly good Robin going to waste. And if there ARE any eggs up in that bird....well...then it's a twofur. Breakfast and lunch. Or a very hearty breakfast.
The End.
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