World War B

My wife is at war and the enemy has turned out to be more clever and resilient than she estimated. It all started one spring day when we noticed that large black birds were taking over the bird feeder in the back yard, pushing out the smaller birds. You see, she wants to feed the birds, but only the little cute ones not the big squawky ones. Unfortunately, the little cute ones are quite dumb and the big squawky ones are fairly smart. The weapon of choice in this war is an ever growing array of increasingly complex and convoluted bird feeders. It started with a basic feeder: a tube with some perches and a tray underneath. It was practically an invitation to the enemy. Since then we've gone to the nuclear bomb of bird feeders: the Yankee Whipper. I have to admit, it is fun watching the large birds try to hang on as the perch constantly collapses. Emma is just praying for a squirrel to discover it. But don't think escalation ends here. Should the enemy prevail, we still have other options. The war rages on!