Sleet Revisited

How quickly we can become aware of an unusual concept when it's dropping right outside the kitchen window. It's 32 degrees Fahrenheit, no, 31, and it started as freezing rain, aka sleet, then snow. Before I knew it, two-inch icicles were hanging off the sides of the neon-colored bird feeder, the snow obscuring the hot pink roof. New colors soon emerged. Red and gilded bronze cardinals, strawberry-hued purple finches, scarlet house finches sporting striped pajama bottoms, jockeying for position against their flashy cousins, the goldfinches, and a host of LBJs all crowded the feeders. The "little brown jobs" included a couple of varieties of sparrows, some lost cowbirds, and a flock of pan-handling starlings eating up the snow like it was a special treat.

With any luck, maybe one of the feeder icicles will brain a cowbird or a starling as they waddle along, looking for trouble and devouring most of the feed.

[Revisiting Zed's prompt from last week, now that sleet has actually arrived.]