
I <PECK> NJ: In Defense of my Bird Feeders’ Crabbiest Regular
- Charlie Biskupic

- Sep 4
- 2 min read
What are the keys to an iconic diner?
-An astonishingly large menu
-A never-ending stream of coffee
-A flat top perfectly seasoned by an equally large amount of early morning and late night orders
-An understanding that your potato side deserves just as much love as your eggs
-A server who is probably stretched way too thin, but still manages to be friendly to the customers
-At least one regular who is a prickly sonuvabitch that you can’t help but love.

I try to run my bird feeders like a top tier diner, and while my menu is pathetically limited to suet, black oil sunflower seeds, and Wagner’s eastern regional blend; I’ve definitely secured a lovable sonuvabitch regular in my red-bellied woodpecker.
Every time I post an Instagram story of this ornery fellow sneak attacking starlings, bullying mourning doves, or fighting off sparrows like he’s Jet Li, I inevitably get flooded with DMs accusing him of being a “jerk” or asking “Who raised that woodpecker? Sheesh!”
And sure I’ve had to cut down a couple trees in our yard that were rendered Swiss cheese by a never-ending barrage of beak drilling, and sure I know that he’d probably peck out my eyes if I left the feeders empty too long, but despite all that I can’t help rooting for the old soul.

I don’t mind the mourning doves, but they do tend to linger at the table too long… plus they’re terrible tippers, and sometimes you just want to sit alone and quietly enjoy a meal without being bothered by any other flapping wings — or gums.
We all have moments where we’re so frustrated with life that we just want to bang our head against a tree. The woodpecker is the only one brave enough to actually do it… can you blame him if the resulting lifetime of concussions makes him a little skiddish?
My Song of the Day: Serve Somebody (feat. Antwaun Stanley) by Vulfpeck








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