I was in wonder about this new bird; they looked like small bluejays but with light green stomachs. Either they were too caught up in eating the persimmons off my two trees to notice me, or they indeed were fearless.
And so, after a minute of my own squawking, I gave up. It was finally their time, the birds' time to win. Before them, the sparrows scared away very easily. I would run out to my trees and clap, they would scamper in two seconds. The crows would surrender too. These huge birds, landing in my trees in pairs, would take turns taking huge bites of my persimmons on the highest branches. After my live scarecrow show, it seemed the crows had to debate leaving, turning their heads from left to right. Then they would clumsily push off into the air, cawing obscenities at me.
Then the screeching from hell arrived in my trees by the dozens. And hundreds more large green Pasadena parrots filled the nearby skies, awaiting their turn to land in masses. At first I was shocked by the invasion, then running outside in pajamas, actually took a moment to admire these beautiful birds hanging upside down ripping my harvest to shreds. These picturesque yet noisy birds sported red feathers on their heads. But nevertheless, I snapped from my short stupor and clapped only once. Scattering them in an instant, all screeching back at me as if I ruined their vacation buffet. These pretty parrots were the most scaredy-cat of all the birds. I guess they were chickens.
So I let this first new batch of birds with green chests stay in my persimmon trees, and win. It wasn't a total win for the birds, for I had spent the last two months picking persimmons by the hundreds and giving boxes away to friends, and pairs to passersby. I also walked back into the house knowing, in the big picture, I had won. For I had eaten with great enjoyment at least one persimmon every day the past two months, and sometimes more!
