It’s not a turkey that needs to be carved, but Fletcher the Flicker is getting creative as he dines on a snack of suet at the feeder.
“I’m going to carve you into a little duckling. Who knows? It might improve the flavour.”
“Oops! What was I thinking? I’ve eaten your bill, my little duckling.”
“Hmm! You’ve got a problem there, Fletch.”
“Well don’t just sit there and criticize, Orson. Do you have any bright ideas?”
“I guess not. Unless he’s gone to think about it….”
“Well, Fletch, I … er … let’s see …. For one thing, his bum’s too fat.”
Fletcher closes his eyes and counts to ten. “Lord give me strength.”
But then Orson has an idea.
“You pick away under his chin – that will help – and I’ll pick away at his fat tush. And by the way, it’s great working with you, Fletch. That snarky starling is not nearly as nice as you are.”
“I’m keeping my distance when he’s around. Get a load of that spearing beak and those mean, beady eyes. Not to mention that grabbing set of claws he’s got. No, Sir! I’m not doing anything to draw attention to myself. No sneaking a bite while he’s there.”
Fletcher carves a duck of suet, Asks his friend for help to do it. Orson's happy to oblige him Least he knows he won't get bludgeoned. Snarky starling, meanest birdy, Doesn't share, and oft plays dirty. Orson spends his time with Fletcher, Both are happy, yep, you betcha.