Perky pet bird feeder

Sorry if this isn’t the place for this; I was googling my feelings and stumbled across this thread.
I currently have a job that is deeply unsatisfying, and I am so tired of people telling me “do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.” This clearly isn’t true. If it was, no one would ever retire.
I genuinely cannot think of one career that would be fulfilling to me or make me okay with working 40 hours a week. When I think of the things I enjoy doing, none of those are work-related. I want to sit on my patio and watch the birds at my bird feeder. I want to lay in bed with my partner, laughing and drinking coffee. I want to take spontaneous drives to the lake or the seaside or the mountains. I want to cook elaborate meals for my family and best friends. I want to spend time playing with my baby niece. I just don’t desire labor.
Because I have to cram all of these activities into 2 days a week, I don’t have any time to just relax. My weekends are go-go-go. I am really starting to feel like I’m unraveling. I’m not even 30 and I already feel so depressed at the prospect of 30+ more years of this.

Yep, you read that right. Here's the story: You know that famous Hollywood couple that rents the "cottage " on the other side of the pond, they wear sunglasses and hoddies in town so no one recognizes them, when actually we all do and just don't care, cause that's how this town rolls? Anyway, I'm over taking measurements of an antique crib that's been passed down through the family that they want replicated for a dollhouse for their son, who is like a year old. Sweet really. Anyway, they have this pet pigeon, who some how got out, they showed me pictures, of the bird by itself and a group familyshot. They are very distraught over this and asked to spread the word through town. Now I'm trying to keep a concerned look on my face, but I'm sure you are thinking what I asked...How do you know it's your pigeon? Don't they all sort of look alike? And they said... ready for this? You can tell when you look in his eyes. There you have it folks, I've done my duty. And don't worry about the forum, since they aren't full time residents, they can only see the title. Anyway, have a good Sunday!

1
I live in a suburb surrounded by forest. My house is in a row of other properties built next to a tree line. The neighborhood was always quiet. The sounds of crickets, birds, and sight of black bears were routine on most summer days.
The scenic area was something I was always grateful for. I lived completely alone since the death of my parents. An accidental fire took both of their lives. Once I collected my inheritance, I relocated to a much more peaceful region. I had always fantasized about moving there.
I tried to start a relationship with Samantha. I had gone to High School with her sixteen years before. She had gone on to become a respected Detective. My attempt at something long lasting with her failed. She was too career oriented. I was reeling from grief. Focusing on building something meaningful with her was a pipe dream.
Things around my community changed once the Murphy family went missing.
The first sign that something was off on that Wednesday was how their blinds had closed. Their silver Chevy Chrysler remained parked in the driveway.
A tennis instructor at the country club noticed the wife of that house did not show up for the program. He called their number to make sure everything was alright. When no one responded, he notified the authorities. Rumors abounded immediately among the home owners association about an alleged affair. The gossip only furthered when the married couple and their three kids were not found in the abode.
I watched from my balcony as the patrolmen roped the place off with caution tape. The domicile was a three story building with brick chimney’s and a few peaked roofs in the style of English towers. They were beige, light blue and crimson.
On the morning of the Murphy’s desertion of society, the architecture became a hollow image. It was one that was once filled with activity and life.
The law did what they could. Any success they may have had in the investigation was secret. A few months passed by and they removed the caution tape.
I followed the on-line police logs. The weather was pristine and clear the day they vanished. The fact that there were no witnesses to what direction they may have gone disturbed me.
I had heard how the man, Frank Murphy, had a bit of a temper and always had a bourbon in hand. I had heard mutual friends describe him as an alcoholic in denial of his servitude to liquor. He was an indignant individual who knew no true repercussions for his behavior. He always had bail money from a software company he founded and sold a long time ago.
I was never close to that family, but I peered out at their vacant house far more than I ever had. I was in need of an answer. What could have happened?
2
I called Samantha one evening as I sat on my bed, wondering how she would respond to my reaching out. We were never argumentative or on bad terms. I still worried about her reaction, and hoped it would not be a dismissive one.
I heard her say hello. Her voice still impressed me. I had almost forgotten how silky her tone was. I knew it could change to a much firmer pitch when she was interviewing a suspect.
“Hi, Sam. I’d like to know if you’d be free tomorrow for a cup of coffee. We can go to that place, The Bean Field, off Pond road. It’s been a while and I know you have a lot to tell me about what’s new in your life.”
There was a pause on the other end, and for a second a bout of anxiety hit me. I judged my own words as robotic, stilted, and sure to push her away. I reasoned she was summoning an excuse to get out of having to interact with me. How dare I presume she would even entertain the notion of having a meeting.
“That sounds great,” she said. “Tomorrow is my day off, luckily for you. I’m in the middle of an incident right now. It’s a five car pile-up about forty minutes from where you live. I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When she hung up, I was triumphant. I looked at our old text conversations. I realized we had not been in communication with each other for over twelve months. Now was my opportunity to reconcile that gap of unintended avoidance. I knew it would be an undeserved opportunity.
3
I sat outside of the cafe the next morning at a black metal table. I had a view of rolling hills dotted with trees. A highway with multitudinous shrubberies sat on either side of it. I sipped a piccolo latte while waiting for her.
When she arrived and stepped out of her hatchback in the parking lot, her appearance floored me. She had not dressed up for our supposed date, but that did not make a difference. She had arrived from the gym and wore shorts and a top set. She donned a gray and green hoodie.
She sat across from me and reached for the menu.
“Can you go to the front and order me avocado toast?” Samantha asked. “I’ll also take a mocha with a few shots of espresso. Please.”
I did exactly that. When I returned with her items, she apologized for consuming her meal in less than two minutes.
“I hadn’t eaten since five PM yesterday,” she said between sips.
“I understand,” I said. “I doubt you ever have a consistent schedule anymore.”
“You’re right, but that’s why I have to enjoy my free time when I can.”
We settled into talking about what had happened since we last saw each other. I referenced my trying to learn another language (French) with the hopes of moving to Europe or Canada.
After fifteen minutes of small talk, I asked her about work, but I did so with caution. It started with me wondering about what the call she was on when we were on the phone was about.
“A drunk driver blew a stop sign and hit two other vehicles,” she said. “It was ugly. A few people died. We’ll see if the man in silk pajamas gives him the proper sentence or a traffic citation.”
“You know, I’m curious about what happened to the Murphy’s, if they’re hurt or not.”
“You and everyone else,” she said. “We’ve been getting so many witness accounts, and so far they’ve all been bogus. All I know is what I saw when I got there.”
“I didn’t know you were one of the responders,” I said.
“Yeah. Something about the place was off from the moment I walked in. I found heavy items in placed they should not have been in. The toolbox was not in the garage but on the second story. A disassembled snowblower lay scattered everywhere in pieces. The oven door was on their bed. Frank Murphy was not the strongest guy in the world, either. For him to cause the kind of property damage I saw doesn’t make a lot of sense. At the risk of sounding crazy, inexplicable things happened when I was there.”
“Like what?”
“I was under the impression that something was playing a trick on me. Electrical outlets sparked a few times out of nowhere. The ceiling fan would go from still to spinning when I looked up at it. Books would fall off of the shelves. A volume on black magic, of all things, almost hit the top of my head when I walked on by. Another book about fairies collapsed with it.”
“So the home intruder set up a bunch of weird diversions,” I said. “I’ve heard of that before. These killers or kidnappers want the victims to think there was more than one of them. It’s so their account’s disputed in court.”
I’ll tell you right now,” she said, “we didn’t find any outside DNA.”
“So it’s a case of family annihilation,” I said as I took a long swig of my beverage. “I don’t know if you can substantiate the facts, but a few people have said that Emily had a big life insurance policy. Frank knew about. He may have been using steroids and having an affair, and that could have contributed to-“
It occurred to me that she eyed me with suspicion, as though I was digging too deep. I could also tell she regretted letting information about the forensic results slip.
She stood up and stared at me with a flash of anger in her eyes.
“I thought you wanted to piece something back together with me,” she said. “I didn’t know you wanted to play armchair investigator like every true crime fan. You know, your parents were kind. I wish you’d follow their example. I’ll let you get the bill.”
She walked back to her vehicle and I knew it would be a while before we conversed again.
Later that night, I stared out my window at the Murphy home. I saw a star shoot across the sky, and it almost seemed ready to plummet into the side of their house.
4
The next evening, I took a walk around the suburb. I spotted a thin line of dried red fluid along a path which led into the woods.
I was attempting to get in some movement to get my mind off of the events of the day before. Negativity and self-deprecation were all-consuming. I felt the need for a long saunter to try and release some of the meandering and pessimistic energy I accrued.
When I saw the carmine ribbon along the dark soil, a sense of worry filled me. I was not that far removed from a cul-de-sac with palatial manors a block away. There was no way I could speculate on me being the first to see it.
Could it be a hint where they are? I thought.
The notion seemed absurd, a reach.
I had read in the local newspaper that there was an uptick in bobcat sightings due to recent wildfires. The animals relocated during prior summers. I reasoned it could have been a house pet which became a victim after it got snatched away into the overgrowth.
I followed it, and the uneven road of red stretched on past many bushes and over logs. A shrill chirping in the background became louder. I moved between two conifers with petrified wood and found myself in a part of the forest I had never been in.
There were so many branches that it blacked out the falling sun. Ahead of me was a clearing. A swarm of gnats and mosquitos descended upon it. The sea of insects soared together in chaotic unison as a wave among the sedges and lichen.
I looked towards the right of the meadow and saw a ramshackle tree house. I trailed the red line towards it. I peered in through one of the windows and saw a statue of a woman with wings. I knew she was not an angel. There was no halo, nor were her organs of flight feathery, but rather they were thin and bat-like.
I entered the place knowing the danger I was putting myself in. I had tracked mud in and was oblivious to the incriminating actions I partook in. I was trespassing and risking stumbling into whoever may have owned the land. My curiosity got the better of me and caused me to keep moving forward.
The room was sparse but decorated. The walls had carvings of men and women, also with wings. Their bodies held yogic-like positions as they reached out to one another mid-air.
A piece of parchment with a few words sat in the corner. I picked it up and read it:
‘Humans are the greatest living beings to play tricks on. Especially when they go through a time of drought and extreme cold.’
I sat it down where I found it, unsure of what to make of it.
I touched the central figure’s neck. The chiseling was not only cold, but below freezing, as though I had submerged my hand in a polar pool.
The noise of some kind of bird attempting to escape a confined space reverberated below me.
Something brushed against my leg. I looked down and saw an army of glow bugs float up between the cracks, and they circled around me. They were like dragon flies. At the time I had labeled them as such, but in reality their shapes were far too humanoid.
I walked back home. I went to bed and slept. I was still perturbed at the wine-colored avenue and cabin.
I awoke in the middle of the night after something tapped at my walls from the outside. I peered out and saw the Murphy home, and observed how the blinds over their casements were wide open. A hive of mites filled every inch of the interior.
5
I found the decomposing body of a chipmunk stuffed into the tailpipe of my vehicle the next day.
This horrified me, because the deliberation of the act was too evident to ignore. While I did have a surveillance camera on my porch, the coverage of my vehicle was non-existent. I calmed myself down by thinking it was likely a tempestuous child. I retrieved a pair of medical gloves and disposed of the creature before going on with the errand. The rotting body had a horrible smell. It was like an onion left out in humidity for days, and my stomach turned as I sealed it off in the garbage with the lid.
The next morning, I looked in my closet. Some of my favorite shirts had disintegrated. Holes and patches of destroyed fabric littered them. I found it odd, and even searched on-line for possible answers before I decided it had to be a moth infestation. I sprayed lavender. Information on a website statEd that was a cure-all, but the problem persisted. It bothered me that I had not seen a single aphid, but I pushed that concern away.
A few days afterward, when I had tossed my disheveled pieces of attire, the power in my house went out. This was not such an unusual occurrence during the heavy winter months. For it to occur in the summer was strange.
It was a rolling blackout. Once my house had electricity again, I noticed how someone moved items around.
Something turned my kitchen table on its side and stuffed into a part of the kitchen I would have never placed it in.
I grabbed a butcher knife and did a sweep of the premises, and I did not find anything. There were no footprints or signs of anything else tampered with. When I got to the second story, birds nested along the tree tops, and the repugnant odor of fish attacked me.
My allergies became insufferable over the next month. Nothing purchased over the counter which helped it.
6
I went to the beach on an overcast day. After roughly half a mile of walking, I saw an illustration someone had drawn in the sand with a stick. It was of a being with airfoils.
A light precipitation had fallen earlier. As I trailed along the former part of the sand, a glint in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked out at the water and saw what appeared to be a light blue outline of wings beneath the surface.
A phosphorescent wall of creatures surrounded me.
As the days march on, I know I am stalked by something I cannot rebel against, let alone have any agency or autonomy over. My pillowcases have shredded, the pipes in my basement have burst, and someone left me a gift at my front door. When I opened it, I saw mice scurry away. It was a book, and it was one about the history of fairies.
I picked it up and had to blow the dust off of it. Someone had stolen it from a musty subterranean chamber and brought it here.
I theorized that it was Samantha, passive aggressive with her disappointment in me. Yet I flip through its pages and find it all too familiar. I cannot help but wonder if this is a sign of something far more dangerous.

I live in a suburb surrounded by forest. My house is in a row of other properties built next to a tree line. The neighborhood was always quiet. The sounds of crickets, birds, and sight of black bears were routine on most summer days.
The scenic area was something I was always grateful for. I lived completely alone since the death of my parents. An accidental fire took both of their lives. Once I collected my inheritance, I relocated to a much more peaceful region. I had always fantasized about moving there.
I tried to start a relationship with Samantha. I had gone to High School with her sixteen years before. She had gone on to become a respected Detective. My attempt at something long lasting with her failed. She was too career oriented. I was reeling from grief. Focusing on building something meaningful with her was a pipe dream.
Things around my community changed once the Murphy family went missing.
The first sign that something was off on that Wednesday was how their blinds had closed. Their silver Chevy Chrysler remained parked in the driveway.
A tennis instructor at the country club noticed the wife of that house did not show up for the program. He called their number to make sure everything was alright. When no one responded, he notified the authorities. Rumors abounded immediately among the home owners association about an alleged affair. The gossip only furthered when the married couple and their three kids were not found in the abode.
I watched from my balcony as the patrolmen roped the place off with caution tape. The domicile was a three story building with brick chimney’s and a few peaked roofs in the style of English towers. They were beige, light blue and crimson.
On the morning of the Murphy’s desertion of society, the architecture became a hollow image. It was one that was once filled with activity and life.
The law did what they could. Any success they may have had in the investigation was secret. A few months passed by and they removed the caution tape.
I followed the on-line police logs. The weather was pristine and clear the day they vanished. The fact that there were no witnesses to what direction they may have gone disturbed me.
I had heard how the man, Frank Murphy, had a bit of a temper and always had a bourbon in hand. I had heard mutual friends describe him as an alcoholic in denial of his servitude to liquor. He was an indignant individual who knew no true repercussions for his behavior. He always had bail money from a software company he founded and sold a long time ago.
I was never close to that family, but I peered out at their vacant house far more than I ever had. I was in need of an answer. What could have happened?
*
I called Samantha one evening as I sat on my bed, wondering how she would respond to my reaching out. We were never argumentative or on bad terms. I still worried about her reaction, and hoped it would not be a dismissive one.
I heard her say hello. Her voice still impressed me. I had almost forgotten how silky her tone was. I knew it could change to a much firmer pitch when she was interviewing a suspect.
“Hi, Sam. I’d like to know if you’d be free tomorrow for a cup of coffee. We can go to that place, The Bean Field, off Pond road. It’s been a while and I know you have a lot to tell me about what’s new in your life.”
There was a pause on the other end, and for a second a bout of anxiety hit me. I judged my own words as robotic, stilted, and sure to push her away. I reasoned she was summoning an excuse to get out of having to interact with me. How dare I presume she would even entertain the notion of having a meeting.
“That sounds great,” she said. “Tomorrow is my day off, luckily for you. I’m in the middle of an incident right now. It’s a five car pile-up about forty minutes from where you live. I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When she hung up, I was triumphant. I looked at our old text conversations. I realized we had not been in communication with each other for over twelve months. Now was my opportunity to reconcile that gap of unintended avoidance. I knew it would be an undeserved opportunity.
*
I sat outside of the cafe the next morning at a black metal table. I had a view of rolling hills dotted with trees. A highway with multitudinous shrubberies sat on either side of it. I sipped a piccolo latte while waiting for her.
When she arrived and stepped out of her hatchback in the parking lot, her appearance floored me. She had not dressed up for our supposed date, but that did not make a difference. She had arrived from the gym and wore shorts and a top set. She donned a gray and green hoodie.
She sat across from me and reached for the menu.
“Can you go to the front and order me avocado toast?” Samantha asked. “I’ll also take a mocha with a few shots of espresso. Please.”
I did exactly that. When I returned with her items, she apologized for consuming her meal in less than two minutes.
“I hadn’t eaten since five PM yesterday,” she said between sips.
“I understand,” I said. “I doubt you ever have a consistent schedule anymore.”
“You’re right, but that’s why I have to enjoy my free time when I can.”
We settled into talking about what had happened since we last saw each other. I referenced my trying to learn another language (French) with the hopes of moving to Europe or Canada.
After fifteen minutes of small talk, I asked her about work, but I did so with caution. It started with me wondering about what the call she was on when we were on the phone was about.
“A drunk driver blew a stop sign and hit two other vehicles,” she said. “It was ugly. A few people died. We’ll see if the man in silk pajamas gives him the proper sentence or a traffic citation.”
“You know, I’m curious about what happened to the Murphy’s, if they’re hurt or not.”
“You and everyone else,” she said. “We’ve been getting so many witness accounts, and so far they’ve all been bogus. All I know is what I saw when I got there.”
“I didn’t know you were one of the responders,” I said.
“Yeah. Something about the place was off from the moment I walked in. I found heavy items in placed they should not have been in. The toolbox was not in the garage but on the second story. A disassembled snowblower lay scattered everywhere in pieces. The oven door was on their bed. Frank Murphy was not the strongest guy in the world, either. For him to cause the kind of property damage I saw doesn’t make a lot of sense. At the risk of sounding crazy, inexplicable things happened when I was there.”
“Like what?”
“I was under the impression that something was playing a trick on me. Electrical outlets sparked a few times out of nowhere. The ceiling fan would go from still to spinning when I looked up at it. Books would fall off of the shelves. A volume on black magic, of all things, almost hit the top of my head when I walked on by. Another book about fairies collapsed with it.”
“So the home intruder set up a bunch of weird diversions,” I said. “I’ve heard of that before. These killers or kidnappers want the victims to think there was more than one of them. It’s so their account’s disputed in court.”
I’ll tell you right now,” she said, “we didn’t find any outside DNA.”
“So it’s a case of family annihilation,” I said as I took a long swig of my beverage. “I don’t know if you can substantiate the facts, but a few people have said that Emily had a big life insurance policy. Frank knew about. He may have been using steroids and having an affair, and that could have contributed to-“
It occurred to me that she eyed me with suspicion, as though I was digging too deep. I could also tell she regretted letting information about the forensic results slip.
She stood up and stared at me with a flash of anger in her eyes.
“I thought you wanted to piece something back together with me,” she said. “I didn’t know you wanted to play armchair investigator like every true crime fan. You know, your parents were kind. I wish you’d follow their example. I’ll let you get the bill.”
She walked back to her vehicle and I knew it would be a while before we conversed again.
Later that night, I stared out my window at the Murphy home. I saw a star shoot across the sky, and it almost seemed ready to plummet into the side of their house.
*
The next evening, I took a walk around the suburb. I spotted a thin line of dried red fluid along a path which led into the woods.
I was attempting to get in some movement to get my mind off of the events of the day before. Negativity and self-deprecation were all-consuming. I felt the need for a long saunter to try and release some of the meandering and pessimistic energy I accrued.
When I saw the carmine ribbon along the dark soil, a sense of worry filled me. I was not that far removed from a cul-de-sac with palatial manors a block away. There was no way I could speculate on me being the first to see it.
Could it be a hint where they are? I thought.
The notion seemed absurd, a reach.
I had read in the local newspaper that there was an uptick in bobcat sightings due to recent wildfires. The animals relocated during prior summers. I reasoned it could have been a house pet which became a victim after it got snatched away into the overgrowth.
I followed it, and the uneven road of red stretched on past many bushes and over logs. A shrill chirping in the background became louder. I moved between two conifers with petrified wood and found myself in a part of the forest I had never been in.
There were so many branches that it blacked out the falling sun. Ahead of me was a clearing. A swarm of gnats and mosquitos descended upon it. The sea of insects soared together in chaotic unison as a wave among the sedges and lichen.
I looked towards the right of the meadow and saw a ramshackle tree house. I trailed the red line towards it. I peered in through one of the windows and saw a statue of a woman with wings. I knew she was not an angel. There was no halo, nor were her organs of flight feathery, but rather they were thin and bat-like.
I entered the place knowing the danger I was putting myself in. I had tracked mud in and was oblivious to the incriminating actions I partook in. I was trespassing and risking stumbling into whoever may have owned the land. My curiosity got the better of me and caused me to keep moving forward.
The room was sparse but decorated. The walls had carvings of men and women, also with wings. Their bodies held yogic-like positions as they reached out to one another mid-air.
A piece of parchment with a few words sat in the corner. I picked it up and read it:
‘Humans are the greatest living beings to play tricks on. Especially when they go through a time of drought and extreme cold.’
I sat it down where I found it, unsure of what to make of it.
I touched the central figure’s neck. The chiseling was not only cold, but below freezing, as though I had submerged my hand in a polar pool.
The noise of some kind of bird attempting to escape a confined space reverberated below me.
Something brushed against my leg. I looked down and saw an army of glow bugs float up between the cracks, and they circled around me. They were like dragon flies. At the time I had labeled them as such, but in reality their shapes were far too humanoid.
I walked back home. I went to bed and slept. I was still perturbed at the wine-colored avenue and cabin.
I awoke in the middle of the night after something tapped at my walls from the outside. I peered out and saw the Murphy home, and observed how the blinds over their casements were wide open. A hive of mites filled every inch of the interior.
*
I found the decomposing body of a chipmunk stuffed into the tailpipe of my vehicle the next day.
This horrified me, because the deliberation of the act was too evident to ignore. While I did have a surveillance camera on my porch, the coverage of my vehicle was non-existent. I calmed myself down by thinking it was likely a tempestuous child. I retrieved a pair of medical gloves and disposed of the creature before going on with the errand. The rotting body had a horrible smell. It was like an onion left out in humidity for days, and my stomach turned as I sealed it off in the garbage with the lid.
The next morning, I looked in my closet. Some of my favorite shirts had disintegrated. Holes and patches of destroyed fabric littered them. I found it odd, and even searched on-line for possible answers before I decided it had to be a moth infestation. I sprayed lavender. Information on a website statEd that was a cure-all, but the problem persisted. It bothered me that I had not seen a single aphid, but I pushed that concern away.
A few days afterward, when I had tossed my disheveled pieces of attire, the power in my house went out. This was not such an unusual occurrence during the heavy winter months. For it to occur in the summer was strange.
It was a rolling blackout. Once my house had electricity again, I noticed how someone moved items around.
Something turned my kitchen table on its side and stuffed into a part of the kitchen I would have never placed it in.
I grabbed a butcher knife and did a sweep of the premises, and I did not find anything. There were no footprints or signs of anything else tampered with. When I got to the second story, birds nested along the tree tops, and the repugnant odor of fish attacked me.
My allergies became insufferable over the next month. Nothing purchased over the counter which helped it.
*
I went to the beach on an overcast day. After roughly half a mile of walking, I saw an illustration someone had drawn in the sand with a stick. It was of a being with airfoils.
A light precipitation had fallen earlier. As I trailed along the former part of the sand, a glint in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked out at the water and saw what appeared to be a light blue outline of wings beneath the surface.
A phosphorescent wall of creatures surrounded me.
As the days march on, I know I am stalked by something I cannot rebel against, let alone have any agency or autonomy over. My pillowcases have shredded, the pipes in my basement have burst, and someone left me a gift at my front door. When I opened it, I saw mice scurry away. It was a book, and it was one about the history of fairies.
I picked it up and had to blow the dust off of it. Someone had stolen it from a musty subterranean chamber and brought it here.
I theorized that it was Samantha, passive aggressive with her disappointment in me. Yet I flip through its pages and find it all too familiar. I cannot help but wonder if this is a sign of something far more dangerous.

Salut everyone,
I saw a post on instagram about a photographer filming a dog disrupting a group of seal on the beach, explaining gently that you should keep your dog on a leash. From that video, a small seal is kept behind with a risk of being abandoned. (And risk to die) I was quite surprised by the bad faith of dog owners. Defending with their teeth the need for dogs to be unleashed but never taking into account that the seals have also the right to rest, to be protected from evitable stress and their babies don't deserve to die alone from multiple disturbances or attacks caused by pets and humans. And also dog park exist ... bUt iT is A big Disturbance for em and oNly them count.
I ve actually already observed that dichotomy : pet, my propriety (which is quite American but it is coming hard in France where pet propaganda is big) against wildlife and common goods.
I actually take care of small wild birds during summer. People who call me want me to do the road and get the animal they found without trying to put the bird on a box in a tree or in their accessible nest cuz their cats own the garden and the lifes of each leaving being here belong to them. They sigh when I told em they have to carry it to me (and sometimes get offended and I don't hear any news) I just can't move my 36.6h week working ass for each bird someone found but they think they are alone, precious and unique. I compromise enough.
For em, wild bird are commun goods and they deserve to be taking care for free. But buying insects is extremely expensive and I'm not an association. Hope I will in the future :) They also don't respect my no (whereas it is my money, time and energy) when I say I don't take pigeon or big birds. Well, I'm not equiped and if it disturbs you, help it yourself and yes the animal wildlife center is way further but don't take pigeon either. BUT when they have to take their pet to the vet, im amazed by the money they are willing to spend on an old, ill and dying animal (and destructive and not part of biodiversity). I used to ask financial support on a well know site. I was disgusted on how people would choose vetenary expensive bills over sterilisation campaign or wildlife or cleaning program even over children (but as a French having to ask a collect for a childs health cuz ur state is incapable is already immoral but as you are reading you are beginning to see I have a strong moral compass :P)
Others anecdotes : I watched a documentary on an animal association where a woman tried to avoid an agonizing cat from being euthanized - big fuzz... at the end they all eat barbecue. An association of animal protection from my city organized a loto to help collect fund for animals. One of the good proposed was a big ham. We actually laugh a lot about that one. Next winning price kitten terrine lol
Also I don't eat farm animal or dairy and I get teased on how I'm doing sentimentality. I used to have two family cats but I never considered them like human.Also I'm not uncomfortable with animal death and I love animal documentory. Of course I get sad when they agonize. I'm glad I don't have a annoying dependant killing parasite at home.(they were kept inside)
Also, my favorite moment is when I release the birds. A lot of people ask me Oh isn't it too hard to set them free now that you are attached. Hell no, the feeding phase is long and take a lot of organization, energy and time. I only do that if I'm sure they will survived and my only reward is to see a free independent animal where it belongs. I like to see them grow and I also have to kill some unfitted one for better ressource distribution and nature will. Oh ma god how dare you ! Their brain is eaten by pet lobbyist telling them it is unmoral to not spend money on a dying unfit animal.
In these type of thinking, wildlife is only a "background" that they like to enjoy only for their benefits and I noticed it comes in pair with their care of common goods (they even despise some things like commun transport or tapwater without any reasons prefering to buy plastic bottle instead cuz they prefer to pay 100 more to get microplastic in their blood and the nature when tapwater is the most controlled thing here in France bUt people selling it tell me it is better for MY health so. When Im in bike people get more annoyed their car could be scratched than care for your security so many example of private propriety taking compassion over.
Pet culture is a big cognitive dissonance (aka I'm too dumb to see the incompatibility of my fed values) and an egocentric one based on workshipping personal propriety. They say they love animal but they don't respect them may it be the pet itself or others. They say animal compagny is better but aren't doing anything for human community. They think they are entittled to free service but never do anything to help ... feel free to complete the list
Thank you for reading my vent. I m interessed if you put some link of others post that talk about wildlife against pet culture.

I asked Bing's AI Chatbot to do this: "Can you write a page about the pit bull lobby in the style of Jean-Luc Picard?" And this is what it came up with.
The Pit Bull Lobby: A Threat to Public Safety By Jean-Luc Picard
Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.
But not all life forms are friendly. Some are dangerous, aggressive and unpredictable. Some have been bred for centuries to fight and kill. Some have a powerful lobby that protects them from any regulation or accountability.
I am talking about pit bulls.
Pit bulls are not a natural breed. They are the result of selective breeding for dogfighting, a cruel and illegal sport that still thrives in many parts of the world. Pit bulls have been genetically engineered to have a high prey drive, a strong bite force, a tenacious grip and a willingness to attack without warning or provocation.
Pit bulls are responsible for more than half of all fatal dog attacks in the United States, Canada and many other countries. They also inflict severe injuries on thousands of people and animals every year, often leaving permanent physical and psychological scars.
Pit bulls are not only a danger to humans, but also to other dogs and pets. They have been known to kill or maim horses, sheep, goats, cats, rabbits and even birds. They have no regard for size, age or species. They attack indiscriminately and relentlessly.
Pit bulls are not suitable pets for anyone. They require constant supervision, training and socialization. They are not loyal, obedient or affectionate. They are unpredictable, unstable and untrustworthy. They are not compatible with children, elderly or disabled people. They are not safe to have around other animals.
Pit bulls are a menace to society. They pose a serious threat to public health and safety. They cause fear, anxiety and trauma in communities. They drain resources from animal shelters, veterinary clinics and law enforcement agencies. They increase insurance premiums, medical bills and legal costs.
Yet despite all the evidence of their danger and harm, pit bulls have a powerful lobby that defends them at all costs. This lobby is composed of five levels:
Level one: The financing source. Animal Farm Foundation (AFF), run by an American millionaire named Jane Berkey, who inherited a fortune from her father and turned over at least $6 million to her group1. AFF’s motto is: "Securing equal treatment and opportunity for pit bull dogs."
Level two: The researchers. National Canine Research Council (NCRC), bought by AFF in 2007. NCRC was created by a veterinary technician named Karen Delise, who self-proclaims as the "greatest national expert on deaths caused by dog bites." NCRC produces studies that attempt to show pit bulls cannot be identified or are not more dangerous than other dogs.
Level three: The publication. Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association (JAVMA), which publishes NCRC studies in its journal2. JAVMA also provides sample letters for readers to contest any law aimed at pit bulls2 and has a link to AFF on its website.
Level four: The political lobby. Best Friends Animal Society (BFAS), one of the biggest animal rights organizations in the USA, with corporate sponsors and partners such as Skechers and Hallmark and Hollywood celebrity endorsements. BFAS receives $100 million in yearly donations and employs lawyers and lobbyists who push their agenda to “save them all”, including very dangerous dogs. BFAS contends that any restrictions on pit bulls is “discrimination” and their followers equate breed restrictions as a form of "racism".
Level five: The activists. Various groups and individuals who spread misinformation, propaganda and lies about pit bulls on social media, blogs, websites and other platforms. They harass, intimidate and threaten anyone who speaks out against pit bulls or supports breed-specific legislation (BSL). They use emotional manipulation, false statistics, anecdotal stories and personal attacks to sway public opinion and influence policy makers.
The pit bull lobby is well-funded, well-organized and well-connected. It has infiltrated every level of society, from the media to the academia to the government. It has corrupted science, ethics and justice. It has endangered lives, rights and freedoms.
The pit bull lobby is not interested in the truth or the welfare of animals or humans. It is only interested in its own agenda and ideology. It is driven by greed, ego and fanaticism. It is a cult that worships a deadly dog.
The pit bull lobby must be exposed, challenged and stopped. It is a matter of life and death.
We, the people, have the power and the duty to protect ourselves, our loved ones and our fellow citizens from the pit bull menace. We must demand that our elected officials enact and enforce BSL, which has been proven to reduce dog attacks and save lives in many jurisdictions around the world.
We must educate ourselves and others about the reality and the risks of pit bulls. We must support the victims and the advocates of BSL. We must boycott the businesses and the celebrities that support the pit bull lobby. We must speak up and speak out against the lies and the propaganda of the pit bull lobby.
We must not let fear, ignorance or apathy stop us from doing what is right and necessary. We must not let the pit bull lobby silence us or intimidate us. We must not let the pit bull lobby win.
We are the Federation. We are stronger together. We are smarter than them. We are better than them.
We are not afraid of pit bulls.
We are not afraid of the pit bull lobby.
We are not afraid to make it so.
Engage.

Hi I recently lost a parent completely unexpectedly, so I'm really looking for someone to chat with about life, or anything at all really. Maybe we could play steam games together :) I love animals, especially birds, and would love to see pictures of your pets if you have any! Some of my hobbies include playing video games (really love rpg's <3), especially retro ones, and playing tabletop games. I also love going for nature walks :) I really enjoy trying new things, just not new foods 🤮

Cats interfere with property. They kill native birds. They make their mess in other people’s garden. A dog owner would never get away with letting their pet act like that. Cats should stay on their owner’s land.

First post but longtime lurker. I (22nb) pay my mom (46F) and stepdad (51M) rent monthly to help towards things like, well, rent and utilities (everyone pays equal amount) but otherwise try to keep to myself as best as I can. When I entered this agreement 2 years ago, I only signed up to live with a pet cat and, occasionally, sleepovers with stepdad’s youngest daughter (7f). Nothing wrong there, and all is mostly well.
Then comes last March, where they (mom/stepdad) apparently had a convo between each other on buying two birds and didn’t even bother including me, nor did they seemingly remember that I also put $720/mo. towards rent/bills. And, eventually, what did stepdad do? He impulse bought 6 parakeets and while it was largely very irritating dealing with them screaming in my ears throughout the day while I’m downstairs, it’s 1:30 AM as I type this with a major headache (& in need of sleep) and I go down, in anger, scream at mom to do something about them, with remarks about how those damm birds are my breaking point for wanting to move out. (along with other baggage mostly relating to stepdad) Meanwhile, stepdad is out and about doing Uber as all this is going down as he usually does on Saturday evenings.
I feel like I was TA doing this, but I need second opinions. So, what’s the verdict?

Not sure if I'm doing this user submission right or not but... here we go.
​
Myself (42, non-binary) and my spouse (45, m) live in a small cottage on his parent's property as we prepare to purchase a home. This has been the arrangement since we, as a family, moved to our current location around four years ago (we're in the US). Myself and my in-laws get along fabulously, in fact, my spouse often says if we DO ever get divorced they would probably kick him to the curb and keep me.
But back to the subject at hand... my spouse and I love our little cottage. It's not big, just two rooms and a bathroom of which one of the rooms is our bedroom and office area and the other is our den and kitchen area. The only problem I have with it is the landscaping around it. It's about four or five basic, run-of-the-mill shrubberies (of which we have yet to have any questing knights ask us for), and really awkward and half-dead hydrangeas at each of our two doors.
I love gardening. It's one of my comfort tasks. I also have an intense dislike for hydrangeas because they are in full bloom for maybe two days out of a year and are dries twigs the rest of the year.
I have begged and pleaded with my in-laws to let me change the landscaping around the cottage--I even said I would transplant the current landscaping to being at their house, since they match their landscaping, and instead put a variety of bee and butterfly-friendly flowers and bushes around the cottage. My father-in-law was all for it but my mother-in-law was absolutely against it so... I wasn't allowed to do it. I even tried to sweeten the deal by saying I would plant more roses, which she loves, and she still said no.
I have done everything I can think of, short of driving copper in the roots of the accursed shrubberies and hydrangeas (because I don't want to kill them). Although I did get a small victory this past November when I bought a pumpkin to put out for the herds of deer that eat corn and sunflower seeds out of our bird feeders... I now have a massive pumpkin patch that is currently giving us massive yellow flowers every day and I LOVE it (I am also secretly hoping they choke out at least one of the hydrangeas as a bulk of the patch is right next to it).
The spousal unit and I are looking to FINALLY get our own property and starter home sometime in the next year. I keep telling him that, before we leave, I'm going to order two, one-pound bags of wildflower seeds (it would only be about $40) and just flower bomb the greenspace around the cottage. He says I should put that energy toward landscaping our soon-to-be home instead of a petty, albeit amusing, pseudo-prank on his mother. I told him it would give her something to remember me by once we move out despite the fact we will probably still see them every weekend once we move.
So, WIBTA if I flower bomb my MiL's yard?
PS: The only reason I still want to do it is because I know she loves bright flowers, in fact, she loves it when I bring her bouquets of flowers and arrange them for her, and during the spring and summer she likes to sit on the back porch and would be able to see the flowers from the porch. She was just raised with the mentality that yards have to be boring and tidy and that she would never be so bold as to scatter wildflowers all over the place. I figure her looking out over the property and seeing the little pops of bright flowers would bring her joy since I wouldn't be able to bring her flower arrangements as often once we move out.
Edit to add some, what I think is important context:
My MiL suffers from depression and every time I bring her bouquets of flowers, her face lights up. She also watches several homesteading videos on YouTube and has expressed the love of how some of them just have wildflowers growing everywhere. We live in the backwoods, the nearest neighbor is about half a mile away. I have asked her why she doesn't just throw some wildflower seeds out in the yard and her response is that she doesn't want the neighbors to think the yard is unkept... The neighbors that never drive past our house. We live on about an acre of land flanked by woods on one side and grazing pastures on two sides so wildflowers would be right at home. And the space I am wanting to flower bomb is about five square feet of grassy area next to our cottage... Just right so she would be able to see them while taking in the scenery when she sits on the porch in the morning. My prerogative is that this little patch of wildflowers would be like a big bouquet from me after we're moved out.

I primarily built this because I wanted to be able to notify my cat that there are birds/squirrels on my patio since he often yells at me to summon said birds/squirrels all of the time. I thought an application such as this existed already. All I wanted was to be able to call webhooks when a certain object is detected on a video stream, but yet, here we are because I couldn't find anything that satisfied my use case.
I'm using this with a local RTSP stream via this cheap ip camera along with home assistant to play sounds on my Google Home speakers. Everything is hosted on a Raspberry Pi 4 via docker containers.
Hopefully others find it useful and I won't have to code any more custom object detection now.
Source code/documentation: https://github.com/circa10a/cv-notifier

My father in Law has a parrot he’s had for like decades. I think he does everything the guy at the pet store in the 80s said he needs but nothing else. What I’m saying is I’m concerned this bird is understimulated and lonely. My father in law is clearly Doc’s (the bird) favorite person. It snaps and hisses at me and anyone else who goes near him. Can I give Doc any enrichment that won’t get me bit?

Hi all! Looking for some advice on how to help my puppy settle with our ducklings. Some context: My pup is a 9.5 month old MalamuteX and is generally pretty laid back. She has been exposed to a lot of poultry. Our direct neighbours have chickens, and we spent 2 months house sitting for family who had neighbours on two sides with chickens and ducks directly on the other side of the fence. She has never cared about them at all. She has loved sitting and watching the ducks and chickens puttering about and it has not been an issue at all. We spend a lot of time at this yard so she sees these birds a few times a week. All of her bird interactions have been neutral and with just a fence between the birds and her. Knowing this we decided adding ducks to our property would be a very doable project. We've created a coop and duck house etc etc and picked them up today. All fenced off etc and in a small corner of our 4 acre yard. And our puppy is losing her mind. She is panting and pacing, more anxious than I have ever seen her. And when we go outside she rushes the fence, throwing herself at it like a lunatic, trying to chew on the fencing to get into the birds. Two behaviours she has never exhibited before. We have her inside right now, 5hrs since we brought the ducklings home and she is standing at the door drooling all over the place and just so anxious. Whining and jumping at the door, chewing at the frame. Again, more behaviours she has never exhibited before. And I can not get her to settle, or even draw her attention elsewhere. Does anyone have any advice?? I have no idea what to do and I feel so horrible for my puppy, she is obviously having an awful stressful time. I've tried toys, lick mat, high value treats, low value treats and lots of pets. The most I can get her down to baseline is maybe 5 consecutive minutes. Please help!!

A scene popped in my head, and I feel like I've seen it somewhere before, but can't quite put my finger to where.
What I know: there's a kid, who has a pet (a dog, or maybe a bird?). Kid hides it from father (or other male guardian figure), who nonetheless finds out, and kills the pet by snapping its neck. The kid cries, and worst-father-of-the-year "consoles" kid with some lesson on how "the world is cruel, get used to it" or "only the strong survive" or another similarly cruel untruth.

Pets For Trade -:
• 2x N Maleo Bird
• N Dugong
• Chick Egg
• Fg Chick
• N Yellow-Lipped Sea Krait
• 3x N Stegosaurus
• Nr Puma
• 2x N Woodpecker
• N Moon Rabbit
• Nfr Moon Rabbit
• Nr Bloodhound
• N Salamander
• N Lunar Ox
• Jousting Horse
• R Chimera
• Cerburus