Sunday: If Sharp-shinneds Could Talk. They Can. They Do.

Everything's a mess. The Sharp-shinned stayed on the outer edges of Base Camp where Tom wouldn't chase it. Few songbirds came to either the front or side feeding grounds. The few times they did they stayed deep in cover only coming out for a moment to gather food and retreat back into the bushes. Tom would go outside assuming they were pinned down and they would all fly off. While the songbirds used to flock to Tom whenever he came outside, after Tom's hundreds of appearances to chase off predators they now equate Tom's presence to a predator being about and fly off. Towards the end of the day the Sharp-shinned was behind bushes in the front feeding area unknown to Tom. Tom walked outside to see why the Songbirds wouldn't come out and drove them right into the Sharp-shinned waiting on the other side. The Sharp-shinned got stampeded by about fifty songbirds coming out it's side of the bush. While Tom was sitting on a bench on the front porch trying to decide his next move the Sharp-shinned returned and landed in the Cottonwood tree 50 feet away. Staring directly at Tom it talked up a storm and kept going at him until Tom finally stood up and kept walking toward it until it flew away, complaining the whole time. When Tom returned to the porch he heard two skunks fighting under the porch for the third straight day. Well, he hopes they're fighting or he'll have three to five baby skunks in forty five days all doing handstands on the sidewalk when guests begin arriving.