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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

OUTWITTED

My squirrel-guard bird feeder now
belies its name. For years it worked,
the provender safely ensconced inside
a caged circumference with metal
top and bottom. No longer.

Three weeks ago a mother with aspirations
for her offspring brought her brood
of two along the branch. One of them,
the bolder, squeezed its way through,
to be followed at once by the other.
And there they sat, munching their lunch
inside, their presence a deterrent
to any would-be avian diner.

Yes, I can, and occasionally do,
shout, clap my hands to make them scurry.
For all my irritation, I confess my
admiration for their derring-do,
their persistence. I turn my back
and they return, undaunted. The day
will come, of course, when their
increasing bulk will preclude thievery.
Till then, I'll watch and wait
and marvel, accepting defeat with
as much grace as I can muster.

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