There was a war here yesterday.

Not a lobster war, as in other places on the Maine coast.

It was a war between (and here you can pretend I'm talking low and loud into a microphone hanging from the ceiling) The Goldfinches in the left corner, and The Chickadees on the right.

It was a turf war. All fought over one little bird feeder. The Chickadees, I might add, were definitely here first - flying back and forth, enjoying the seeds - when this gang of Finches, wearing their colors - yellow and black - suddenly swooped in from the south. It was an all out attack and when the screaming and yelling and swooping and pecking was done, the Finches had claimed the bird feeder.

They swarmed over it and after about three seconds determined it didn't contain the kinds of seeds they like. They left as fast as they came. Leaving the poor little Chickadees defeated but with plenty of bragging rights.

So of course today I ran to four different stores (ha ha you didn't think we had FOUR stores in Machias, now did you?) and bought three more feeders, a double shepherd's crook and a thistle sock. They are all installed outside my window and although I've been here for hours, I haven't seem one damn bird. Not even a feather. Nothing. Nada.

So much for trying to orchestrate world piece.