To Kill a Robin

This is my tree, I love this tree. I have another one just like it, two cherry trees. I bought them at an auction five years ago, when they were little sapplings. I watered them, fed them, pruned them, and talked to them. (Yeah, look in the mirror and ask yourself if you can really cast the first stone.)

I weed around their trunks, mow around their trunks. I reluctantly hold back from beating my children for hanging on their branches. (Apparently I'm not scary enough, Logan broke a big branch yesterday. Don't worry, he's still breathing. Dang social services!)

I have them sprayed to keep the buggies off. I don't like buggies.

So I ask you, where do these robins get off? Have they not read the little red hen? Do they not know the principal of the harvest?

They're not even scared of me... until I throw something at them. Trust me, with four kids, there are plenty of things to pick up and throw in my back yard.

So I've been debating... I have a bb gun, I have lots of guns. I have guns that I specifically use to kill birdies, big fat birdies that we eat. I don't want to eat a robin, I'll leave that to Andrew Zimmerman and his bizarre foods.

Do I or don't I? Do I or don't I?

Here's the real dillema. I love cutie little blue robin eggs. I love to hear the birds sing, I like that they eat the crane fly's, and generally I'm a lover of animals, until I'm hungry.

I could use nets, but that's going to cost me a trip somewhere and money, and I'll lose it or destroy it every year. I could just share the wealth, which is really what I've been doing. But those robins are greedy fat buggars.

So I'm going to think about this a little longer. By the way the cherries are awesome and we've been eating a ton every day. I think we're going to make cherrie shakes tonight.

So what should I do? What would you do?


P.S. I'm adding a picture of my garden, because well, it's awesome!