Power Tools and Woodly Goods.

Photo by Phil Lennstrom (big brother)

On our back deck the little chickadees, nuthatches, finches and pine siskins put on a good show with their birdy dances and super-sonic flits round the bird feeder. And because Mom enjoys watching them I set up a feeder outside the living room window, by our front door, so she could sit in comfort and enjoy their antics.

In typical (think low-class) fashion, there was a black garbage bin with a  small green patio table stuffed into the top of it  on which sat a paper plate of bird seed.  Which I must say —worked just fine. Until it rained. It seems the wee birds aren’t fussy about diving into murky rainwater for their meals.

I gave it a week, hoping hubby would offer to build a real feeder before I caved and figured I’d have to do the damn project. With his how-to-make-a-bird-feeder book in hand I headed downstairs to his domain—the basement.

My first step was the wood hunt and I ended up with a goodly pile of woodsy stuff. Boards, many bits of wood, an entire bucket of assorted dowellings and an armful of sticks—what a terrific find!

On top of my wood pile went a drill, screws that looked not-to-big and not-to-small, hammer, Gorilla Glue (my favorite stuff for just about everything) and skill-saw (don’t you just wonder about that name?). I mean, what if someone without any skill uses it. Does it become a stupid-saw?)

I was pleased with my gatherings; at least until I realized I’d lost the book!  After much cursing, followed by explainations for the cursing yelled up the stairs since we don’t have a door at the bottom of the stairs, I decided to just wing it.

I thought I was doing fine but half way through dear hubby worms his nose in; mainly since I was mucking with his power tools which makes him nervous. And of course nothing goes wrong until he tells me what could go wrong and then it’s snap and ouch, damn and ouch, which forces him to take over with one of those smuggy I told you so male faces.

So how did the feeder turn out? Let’s just call it beautifully practical since I wasn’t being too-too cautious with my measurements or gluing or even attempting to match all the difference types of wood. And Randy plans on using the back door until spring. That’s when the feeder won’t be needed and he can burn it out of existence.

Is there a word for male diva?

Excuse me while I go wash the sawdust out of my hair…

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