To Kill A Mockingbird

[odot]

Maybe he's charmed it into being a personal pet .....So?....Does it taste like chicken? :huh: ....

Or, better yet...will it open a beer for ya? :huh:

 

[ionbeam]

gitterdan asks:

TWN: since it's been a couple of months ago and this thread was revived, curious minds want to know. You still got the pesky bird or did you have to move? remember, what you say can be used in a court of law.

Scab wrote to TWN:

you've got two bullets now...Put one in your pocket and, well, you know what to do with the other one.

With TWO bullets now, I ask TWN:

The mockingbird finally gets it?

And TWN replies:

Um, that problem has been, uh, solved. Thanks, by the way, for the tip.

My tip was post #3

Finally, TWN clarifies:

Um, converted to whole walnuts. This is California, afterall. :wink:

 

[PapaUtah]

You can try these spikes whereveer the thing is roosting... Bird Away Spikes They look plenty uninviting.

Or this guy on your roof... Mechanical Owl

 

[ionbeam]

Ya, but TWN's birdie was a tree topper, last bit of the tip o' the branch Pavarotti.

 

[fjrchooser]

I had a similar problem except mutiplied by 10 ( or 100 ). Solved it with the help of a Crossman 760 single shot 10 pump BB gun. In the end though, an Irish Setter from down the the block turned out to be the ultimate solution and my hero.

In case your curious, here is my rather long story.

My workweek residence is a residential area now, but once was a farm community and still happened to be covered by farm law. Which just means no anti-livestock laws were on the books. Mind you , this was ~20 years ago. Not that its any different now.. Did I mention its low rent ?

Anyway, weird next door neighbor buys 100 Guinea (?) chicken eggs from an ad in the back of a comic book and proceeds to hatch them. About a 100 cute little yellow chics running around the yard while he builds a chicken coup 30 ft. from my bedroom window, 100 ft from his own.

I figure this is unsanitary as well as potentially unpleasant and complain to him. He explains they are the kids 'pets' but will be gone soon enough when they lose interest. I decide he's probably right, after all they are pretty little and not causing any real problem. Until...

They grow up. Which they do fast - real fast.

90 turn out to be chickens, about 10 are roosters.

Now I thought roosters only cock-a-doodle-dooed once upon sunrise and then went about their business, which they pretty much do. Except that their business IS cock-a-doodle-doing ! Son of a bitch !

All ten of those roosters would jump up on the fence and try to out do each other all day long and most of the evening. Normally started about an hour before dawn and didn't shut up again until THEIR bedtime which was whenever they passed out. I never could figure the actual end time in advance.

Any little noise throughout the night would usually set them off again for a few minutes.

Neighbor went to work at 2:30 am so he missed out on natures little alarm clocks EVERY day since the little *******s didn't recognize weekends and holidays. I missed out on being able to wring his neck as our schedules were opposite. Cops were no help due to the farm rules though they sympathized.

One day, I'm organizing the bedroom walk in closet and come across the Crossman while the feathered competition is going full swing on the fence just outside the window . A quick shake verifies the storage magazine still has a pretty good supply left in it. Hmmm, payback time - Oh Yeah !!!!

A few shots into the BB trap found nearby, shooting the length of the house using the hallway on one end and the dining room on the other sets up number of pumps to range,drop and noise considerations closely approximating window to fence choir distance.

Not wanting to leave any chicken carcasses to get mine thrown in the slammer, I decide to pop the first one in that little red flap of skin they have on their heads- the comb.

Sneaking up the window screen I wait until my target gets himself all inflated, neck down between his feet, head slowly coming up , wings beginning to extend and just as he reaches full neck extension and starts to crow I let him have it. Zowie ! 3 pumps and I can just make out my BB bouncing off the top of his skull !

Fowl little fooker chokes, ducks , looks quickly left, right, left again and attacks the rooster next to him on the fence ! As both are fighting it out on the ground I'm laughing like a maniac while trying to stifle myself to avoid discovery.

The rest of the choir continues the competition one after the other and I reload.

Clack, Clack Clack goes the forearm of the Crossman pump.

Same deal on rooster # 3, wait for full neck extension and let him have it ! Zing ! No sooner does the BB bounce off his skull then he's down off the fence and running for the far side of his yard ! Never knew they could haul ass like that !

More manical laughing followed by the bedroom door opening-Aw man busted I think! My youngest son comes scooting over to me at the window in a crouched position whispering " Hey Dad what are you doing ?" About 8 years old at the time, I'm wondering how he got so damn sneaky ? " Hey, let me take a shot Dad!"

The kid was pretty good so I explained the process and my desire to NOT generate a body count .

To make a long story shorter, after a few days ALL the roosters experienced the Crossman multiple times. Even though our fence remained their favorite spot, upon the first 'clack' of the Crossman being pumped all the roosters were off the fence in a flash and beatin ass for the far side of the yard. There they'd fight for the corner, trying to use their buddies for cover.

Heh heh, didn't work. Another couple of pumps and they were in it again if they so much as peeped.

A few more weeks and all you had to do was mimic the 'clack' sound verbally and they'd rip for the far side. I made the kids promise not to do it when the neighbor was around, any other time though we'd do it to amuse ourselves and terrorize them.

A few weeks later the neighbor and I are talking and I bring up the fact again that roosters are not only noisy but taste good BBQ'd. He agrees but mentions he thinks his are diseased or something. Has his 6 year old son capture a rooster ( that was hilarious in itself ) and bring it over to us.

Once up close I'm amazed to see the roosters comb is perferated with perfect little holes and half moons near the edges from near misses.

I'm biting my tongue to keep from laughing so hard its bringing tears to my eyes as we innocently speculate on what disease could cause such a thing and ponder if perhaps it could endanger the children ? He makes his kid go in the house and wash his hands and I have to bite harder.

Another few weeks pass by with no action on the neighbors part. Then one dark early morning as I back the motorcycle out of the garage to head for work, its headlight sweeps across a scene of indescribable carnage. Chicken feathers and carcasses seem to cover every inch of both our yards ! There in the middle of my neighbors yard, eyes glowing red and chicken in his mouth was the beautiful copper Irish Setter from the corner house.

I've had a lot of dogs and loved them all, but I don't think I've loved a dog more than I did that one at that particular moment. I spent next several minutes twisting the handlebars back and forth, spotting for the setter as we teamed up for the few escapees he'd missed.

More good stuff followed from this same neighbor over the years until he finally moved out. Sometimes I miss him when things get boring.

If things get slow on the forum this winter , remind me to tell you about his woodburning stove smoking us out several nights running.

 

[dcarver]

I had a similar problem except mutiplied by 10 ( or 100 ). Solved it with the help of a Crossman 760 single shot 10 pump BB gun. In the end though, an Irish Setter from down the the block turned out to be the ultimate solution and my hero.
In case your curious, here is my rather long story.

My workweek residence is a residential area now, but once was a farm community and still happened to be covered by farm law. Which just means no anti-livestock laws were on the books. Mind you , this was ~20 years ago. Not that its any different now.. Did I mention its low rent ?

Anyway, weird next door neighbor buys 100 Guinea (?) chicken eggs from an ad in the back of a comic book and proceeds to hatch them. About a 100 cute little yellow chics running around the yard while he builds a chicken coup 30 ft. from my bedroom window, 100 ft from his own.

I figure this is unsanitary as well as potentially unpleasant and complain to him. He explains they are the kids 'pets' but will be gone soon enough when they lose interest. I decide he's probably right, after all they are pretty little and not causing any real problem. Until...

They grow up. Which they do fast - real fast.

90 turn out to be chickens, about 10 are roosters.

Now I thought roosters only cock-a-doodle-dooed once upon sunrise and then went about their business, which they pretty much do. Except that their business IS cock-a-doodle-doing ! Son of a bitch !

All ten of those roosters would jump up on the fence and try to out do each other all day long and most of the evening. Normally started about an hour before dawn and didn't shut up again until THEIR bedtime which was whenever they passed out. I never could figure the actual end time in advance.

Any little noise throughout the night would usually set them off again for a few minutes.

Neighbor went to work at 2:30 am so he missed out on natures little alarm clocks EVERY day since the little *******s didn't recognize weekends and holidays. I missed out on being able to wring his neck as our schedules were opposite. Cops were no help due to the farm rules though they sympathized.

One day, I'm organizing the bedroom walk in closet and come across the Crossman while the feathered competition is going full swing on the fence just outside the window . A quick shake verifies the storage magazine still has a pretty good supply left in it. Hmmm, payback time - Oh Yeah !!!!

A few shots into the BB trap found nearby, shooting the length of the house using the hallway on one end and the dining room on the other sets up number of pumps to range,drop and noise considerations closely approximating window to fence choir distance.

Not wanting to leave any chicken carcasses to get mine thrown in the slammer, I decide to pop the first one in that little red flap of skin they have on their heads- the comb.

Sneaking up the window screen I wait until my target gets himself all inflated, neck down between his feet, head slowly coming up , wings beginning to extend and just as he reaches full neck extension and starts to crow I let him have it. Zowie ! 3 pumps and I can just make out my BB bouncing off the top of his skull !

Fowl little fooker chokes, ducks , looks quickly left, right, left again and attacks the rooster next to him on the fence ! As both are fighting it out on the ground I'm laughing like a maniac while trying to stifle myself to avoid discovery.

The rest of the choir continues the competition one after the other and I reload.

Clack, Clack Clack goes the forearm of the Crossman pump.

Same deal on rooster # 3, wait for full neck extension and let him have it ! Zing ! No sooner does the BB bounce off his skull then he's down off the fence and running for the far side of his yard ! Never knew they could haul ass like that !

More manical laughing followed by the bedroom door opening-Aw man busted I think! My youngest son comes scooting over to me at the window in a crouched position whispering " Hey Dad what are you doing ?" About 8 years old at the time, I'm wondering how he got so damn sneaky ? " Hey, let me take a shot Dad!"

The kid was pretty good so I explained the process and my desire to NOT generate a body count .

To make a long story shorter, after a few days ALL the roosters experienced the Crossman multiple times. Even though our fence remained their favorite spot, upon the first 'clack' of the Crossman being pumped all the roosters were off the fence in a flash and beatin ass for the far side of the yard. There they'd fight for the corner, trying to use their buddies for cover.

Heh heh, didn't work. Another couple of pumps and they were in it again if they so much as peeped.

A few more weeks and all you had to do was mimic the 'clack' sound verbally and they'd rip for the far side. I made the kids promise not to do it when the neighbor was around, any other time though we'd do it to amuse ourselves and terrorize them.

A few weeks later the neighbor and I are talking and I bring up the fact again that roosters are not only noisy but taste good BBQ'd. He agrees but mentions he thinks his are diseased or something. Has his 6 year old son capture a rooster ( that was hilarious in itself ) and bring it over to us.

Once up close I'm amazed to see the roosters comb is perferated with perfect little holes and half moons near the edges from near misses.

I'm biting my tongue to keep from laughing so hard its bringing tears to my eyes as we innocently speculate on what disease could cause such a thing and ponder if perhaps it could endanger the children ? He makes his kid go in the house and wash his hands and I have to bite harder.

Another few weeks pass by with no action on the neighbors part. Then one dark early morning as I back the motorcycle out of the garage to head for work, its headlight sweeps across a scene of indescribable carnage. Chicken feathers and carcasses seem to cover every inch of both our yards ! There in the middle of my neighbors yard, eyes glowing red and chicken in his mouth was the beautiful copper Irish Setter from the corner house.

I've had a lot of dogs and loved them all, but I don't think I've loved a dog more than I did that one at that particular moment. I spent next several minutes twisting the handlebars back and forth, spotting for the setter as we teamed up for the few escapees he'd missed.

More good stuff followed from this same neighbor over the years until he finally moved out. Sometimes I miss him when things get boring.

If things get slow on the forum this winter , remind me to tell you about his woodburning stove smoking us out several nights running.

FjrChooser - GREAT story... now.. I have about 2,000 ground rats (squirrels) for you and your son to have fun with.....

 

[NoCage]

I had a similar problem except mutiplied by 10 ( or 100 ). Solved it with the help of a Crossman 760 single shot 10 pump BB gun. In the end though, an Irish Setter from down the the block turned out to be the ultimate solution and my hero.
In case your curious, here is my rather long story.

My workweek residence is a residential area now, but once was a farm community and still happened to be covered by farm law. Which just means no anti-livestock laws were on the books. Mind you , this was ~20 years ago. Not that its any different now.. Did I mention its low rent ?

Anyway, weird next door neighbor buys 100 Guinea (?) chicken eggs from an ad in the back of a comic book and proceeds to hatch them. About a 100 cute little yellow chics running around the yard while he builds a chicken coup 30 ft. from my bedroom window, 100 ft from his own.

I figure this is unsanitary as well as potentially unpleasant and complain to him. He explains they are the kids 'pets' but will be gone soon enough when they lose interest. I decide he's probably right, after all they are pretty little and not causing any real problem. Until...

They grow up. Which they do fast - real fast.

90 turn out to be chickens, about 10 are roosters.

Now I thought roosters only cock-a-doodle-dooed once upon sunrise and then went about their business, which they pretty much do. Except that their business IS cock-a-doodle-doing ! Son of a bitch !

All ten of those roosters would jump up on the fence and try to out do each other all day long and most of the evening. Normally started about an hour before dawn and didn't shut up again until THEIR bedtime which was whenever they passed out. I never could figure the actual end time in advance.

Any little noise throughout the night would usually set them off again for a few minutes.

Neighbor went to work at 2:30 am so he missed out on natures little alarm clocks EVERY day since the little *******s didn't recognize weekends and holidays. I missed out on being able to wring his neck as our schedules were opposite. Cops were no help due to the farm rules though they sympathized.

One day, I'm organizing the bedroom walk in closet and come across the Crossman while the feathered competition is going full swing on the fence just outside the window . A quick shake verifies the storage magazine still has a pretty good supply left in it. Hmmm, payback time - Oh Yeah !!!!

A few shots into the BB trap found nearby, shooting the length of the house using the hallway on one end and the dining room on the other sets up number of pumps to range,drop and noise considerations closely approximating window to fence choir distance.

Not wanting to leave any chicken carcasses to get mine thrown in the slammer, I decide to pop the first one in that little red flap of skin they have on their heads- the comb.

Sneaking up the window screen I wait until my target gets himself all inflated, neck down between his feet, head slowly coming up , wings beginning to extend and just as he reaches full neck extension and starts to crow I let him have it. Zowie ! 3 pumps and I can just make out my BB bouncing off the top of his skull !

Fowl little fooker chokes, ducks , looks quickly left, right, left again and attacks the rooster next to him on the fence ! As both are fighting it out on the ground I'm laughing like a maniac while trying to stifle myself to avoid discovery.

The rest of the choir continues the competition one after the other and I reload.

Clack, Clack Clack goes the forearm of the Crossman pump.

Same deal on rooster # 3, wait for full neck extension and let him have it ! Zing ! No sooner does the BB bounce off his skull then he's down off the fence and running for the far side of his yard ! Never knew they could haul ass like that !

More manical laughing followed by the bedroom door opening-Aw man busted I think! My youngest son comes scooting over to me at the window in a crouched position whispering " Hey Dad what are you doing ?" About 8 years old at the time, I'm wondering how he got so damn sneaky ? " Hey, let me take a shot Dad!"

The kid was pretty good so I explained the process and my desire to NOT generate a body count .

To make a long story shorter, after a few days ALL the roosters experienced the Crossman multiple times. Even though our fence remained their favorite spot, upon the first 'clack' of the Crossman being pumped all the roosters were off the fence in a flash and beatin ass for the far side of the yard. There they'd fight for the corner, trying to use their buddies for cover.

Heh heh, didn't work. Another couple of pumps and they were in it again if they so much as peeped.

A few more weeks and all you had to do was mimic the 'clack' sound verbally and they'd rip for the far side. I made the kids promise not to do it when the neighbor was around, any other time though we'd do it to amuse ourselves and terrorize them.

A few weeks later the neighbor and I are talking and I bring up the fact again that roosters are not only noisy but taste good BBQ'd. He agrees but mentions he thinks his are diseased or something. Has his 6 year old son capture a rooster ( that was hilarious in itself ) and bring it over to us.

Once up close I'm amazed to see the roosters comb is perferated with perfect little holes and half moons near the edges from near misses.

I'm biting my tongue to keep from laughing so hard its bringing tears to my eyes as we innocently speculate on what disease could cause such a thing and ponder if perhaps it could endanger the children ? He makes his kid go in the house and wash his hands and I have to bite harder.

Another few weeks pass by with no action on the neighbors part. Then one dark early morning as I back the motorcycle out of the garage to head for work, its headlight sweeps across a scene of indescribable carnage. Chicken feathers and carcasses seem to cover every inch of both our yards ! There in the middle of my neighbors yard, eyes glowing red and chicken in his mouth was the beautiful copper Irish Setter from the corner house.

I've had a lot of dogs and loved them all, but I don't think I've loved a dog more than I did that one at that particular moment. I spent next several minutes twisting the handlebars back and forth, spotting for the setter as we teamed up for the few escapees he'd missed.

More good stuff followed from this same neighbor over the years until he finally moved out. Sometimes I miss him when things get boring.

If things get slow on the forum this winter , remind me to tell you about his woodburning stove smoking us out several nights running.

Chooser, THAT is some funny ****. I don't know how you kept it together when he brought you the "diseased" bird with your bb holes in its comb.