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The other day, I caught a ridiculous assortment of aviary wildlife in our royal poinciana (because that’s where the bird feeder is).  Since then, I’ve been trying to catch them in action (because, go figure, I was putting tree trimmings in the yard waste bin when I witnessed the menagerie the first time) and I’ve missed the blue-crowned parakeets, the red-headed woodpecker, and the orioles.  On the other hand, the birds I have caught tend to look like they’re up to no good.  They’re like the bird equivalent of shots you see of politicians sneaking out of hotel rooms with escorts, strippers, and the gay lovers their wives think is just the staff assistant.

Maybe it’s more like catching one of the Jenny Craig/Weight Watchers spokespeople with a sack full of Whoppers and a fist full of Krispy Kreme.

I keep expecting the doves to finally break that rope again.  They just look as heavy as a turkey.

The crows look equally suspicious.

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