I have psycho birdies in my backyard. No really. Hordes of them. Of varying species, including the occasional coastal refugee that has no business being this far inland. 'Cause we've got us a few fruit trees and such. Which was cool for a while. 'Til they started dog fighting at 3 in the morning and destroying my spinach plants.
Now I've made peace with the nomadic Al Queda chickens, none of which I own and never see a single egg from. It's not a Zen thing, me making my peace with the chickens; I've just thrown in the towel. They win. The little bastards are tough and agile and I'm starting to get the feeling that they're flipping me the bird every time I engage in extreme shooing behaviour. Besides, the neighbours are starting to look at me funny. Funnier than usual, that is.
But these other wee noise makers, which have taken to dive bombing each other and any open window, are pushing me over the edge. Which admittedly isn't necessarily a difficult task to accomplish. Bird calls are supposed to be soothing, bringing one in tune with nature, and all that rot. But let me tell you 'squawk, squawk, screech, coo, crash' is not soothing. Anyone know anything about air rifles?