RSPB’s Big Garden Birdwatch and Me

Next door’s got a much better bird-feeder, let me tell you.

It was the yearly RSPB’s Big Garden Birdwatch over the weekend, when thousands, maybe millions of people in the UK sit in their gardens for an hour and count the birds that land in their garden. Then they report how many birds they saw and which species to the RSPB. Then in a little while the RSPB tells us whether things are improving or not.

I’m betting not, seeing how addicted the idiots in power are to insecticide, herbicide, pesticide and omnicide.

But I sat dutifully in my tiny ‘rewilded’ garden for an hour on Sunday morning. I could hear blackbirds singing and sparrows and SBJs (Small Brown Jobs) tweeting, crows cawing and pigeons cooing all around.

Not a single bird came into my garden.

Basically they were laughing at me and my elaborate bird-feeding station which I had just installed. Ungrateful dinosaurs.

The birds weren’t having any of it. Nah, they said, it’s too new and shiny and that bloody orange furry predator keeps lurking around. And the white furry predator and the striped furry predator and the black and white furry…

“None of those fat cats could catch you,” I told them. “Why not take a chance?”

Nah. We’re not sure about you either, you certainly smell like a furry predator despite you changing your feathers to…