Harry the Horny House Finch

Harry the Horny House Finch has a few lessons to learn about the fairer sex.

He seems to think that jumping random ladyfinches from behind is his ticket to reproductive bliss… without even offering to buy them a drink or a few sunflower seeds first.

Poor fellow. He’s often found all alone at my feeders, just waiting for another female to arrive, with barely a peep of his beautiful song to be heard. With his rose coloured cap and breast, he’s stunning to behold — but at the same time, rather sad and pathetic. He just doesn’t seem to have a social clue.

I wish I knew how to speak Finch. I’d give him a few words of advice. I’d tell him to chill out a bit. I’d tell him all about the… uh…

Birds.

And the bees.

I’d buy him a (really little) beer and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

That he just has to keep his cool.

That, with his looks and his sweet, sweet hanging feeder, the chicks will eventually come to him.

Keep it in your pants, Harry. Spring has barely sprung.

Patience is a virtue.

And chicks dig sensitive males.

Chirp. Chirp.