A tragic true tale told in haiku form. The horrid little chap in the photograph (not one of mine) is not one of the villains of the piece, but he looks remarkably similar.
Two Jackdaws perch high
And hurl the moss with malice
From the dank roof tiles.
As I sit below
In the conservatory
Thuds disturb my rest.
The truth you ask of?
The truth is rarely pure and
Never so simple.
Do these wretched birds
Not know what pain they cause me?
Hitchcock had it right.
Will the winged world
Conspire in this wickedness?
Birds are not my friends.
Boadicea's Chariot 