Standoff at Balcony Corral
There’s a new posse in town and trouble is a-brewing. They call themselves the Bandits, they’re young, fearless and ready to take on all comers for control of this here Balcony Corral. The original townspeople keep out of their way, chirping and cheeping their troubles quietly amongst themselves. Ain’t nothing the sheriff can do neither.
The squirrel babies are growing fast. They are rebellious now, ignoring their ma with a flick of their tails. They are quicksilver, slipping and darting their way up and down the balcony grill. The takeover of town is well under way. A route has been mapped out to the feeder that hangs just beyond their reach. The little bandits skip along the upper branches of the bougainvillea and jasmine plants. The precious gundumalli buds break under their weight and fall in the mud below. It’s a sad thing to show so much promise and then be torn loose before the bloom. But this is the Wild South West and the young ‘uns don’t care about the finer things. From the frail branches, the bandit babies leap lightly upwards and use their tiny, sharp claws to cling to the side of the feeder. Invariably, they land head down and balance there, one foot and bushy tail wrapped around the suspending rope, head buried in the opening of the feeder. It’s a tough draw, dangerous and risky. Any sudden movement in the corral and they are gone in a flash, diving for a safe position. They are back soon enough, launching themselves through the air, reminding me of the daredevil heroes of old westerns and Louis L’Amour novellas.
But a situation is fast developing. There are too many seed slingers in this one feeder town. And the big boys, those high flyers of the outfit known far and wide as the Green Seed Crackers, have staked first claim to this here territory. The young corral bandits are playing with fire and they know it. But this ain’t no tenderfoot outfit either. They’re staking their claim on the feeder and by gum, they’re ready for a showdown, pardner.
The parrots are not putting up with these young upstarts. As soon as a squirrel is precariously balanced on the feeder, just as the snout is within reach of the delectable goodies, the parrot perched on guard duty sets up an alarm call. If that doesn’t startle the squirrel away, the parrot contorts his body forward, his head reaching for that tantalising waving tail. A good sharp nip from that wickedly curved beak should send the young rodent packing. But age is on the side of the corral bandit. The faintest whisper of a touch and he whirls around, leaping off the feeder and straight for the parrot. The startled bird leaps backwards and into flight in one fluid motion.
The two adversaries eyeball each other from a safe distance and the corral holds its breath. The innocent citizens chirp peaceably, the sheriff heads back into the saloon. The tension winds down, every one goes his own way. The Seed Crackers and The Bandits live to fight it out another day.
Just another standoff at Balcony Corral.