the goldfinches were fighting over the sack of black thistles I hung out for them under the eaves. at first I was enchanted with their circling dives and soft-voiced tweeps as they dive bombed each other. this is as natural as it gets, I said to myself. it's fascinating to watch. but then my simple heart began to ache. they were spending more energy on fighting than on feeding, and half of the black thistles wound up on the ground, where the quail and sparrows, the eternal enemies of goldfinches, reveled in it. what a waste!
I had to do something, so I stepped outside, raised my hands, and yelled at the goldfinches to cease their constant bickering. they paid no attention to me. so I raised my voice and repeated my plea. at this they turned on me, dropping down on my head like the ping pong balls used to do on Captain Kangaroo's head. it would have been funny if it were not so tragic.
Running for cover, I said a brief prayer: "Help these foolish birds to understand the error of their ways, oh Lord!" Once inside the house I made waffles and fried bacon and forgot about the lousy birds. the next day a cat crawled up the trellis and wiped them all out.
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