Today that noisy jay came back,
a feeding attack on the seed box
where songbirds fed, but now it was his
instead, and he said, “Get out!”
his message clear to all that hear,
“This seed is mine; go find
another place to eat, and don’t even
think about looking for a treat
when I’m away, burying my loot
in case there’s a day when the feeder’s
empty. I don’t give a hoot if you eat or not.
This seed’s mine and I got dibs
on every last bite. So off you go,
this is my show. I’m not close to done.
If there’s any left you can squabble over it
when I’m gone, and thank me for whatever
you get. I’m off for the trees, and if you
don’t want a fight, don’t watch when
I hide my stash or I might just give
you something to regret. Don’t forget.
I might be back – so don’t check the box
too soon. If you don’t see me by noon
there’s a chance I’m taking a nap.”