The Bongo War

Can you see this? This is the little bugger that has turned our yard into a war zone. I call him (or her, it's hard to tell) Bongo.

Bongo continues to reside just outside our fence, at altitudes below seven feet. Toby is obsessed with Bongo. He searches Bongo out, barking at him frenetically as soon as he spots him. Bongo's extensive family converges on our yard the minute Toby makes an appearance, scolding and threatening at the top of their lungs, which only increases his obsession with all black birds. There is no end in sight to the cycle of canine-avian conflict.

Toby has even taken to jumping up on the fence which, at 5 feet high, would be very difficult but not impossible for him to jump. He's never shown any interest before, but then again, he's never seemed so motivated. He is not, in fact, as stupid as he looks:

If he keeps working the problem, he'll figure it out eventually.

Finally I strolled out front to have a little heart-to-heart with Bongo. "Do you think you could improve your flying skills a little faster?" I asked. "You know, maybe you're just not applying yourself. You'll like it up there, in the wide blue sky. It looks nice. But, ok, if you're just not ready, I respect that. Maybe you could stroll across the street and live in Eva's yard until you're ready to move up and out? No? Ok then. You seem like the quiet type, I do appreciate that - do you suppose you might have a word with your family, you know, to see if they won't dial it down a little? The racket is really getting on all of our nerves, I'm sure a sensitive guy like you understands. That would really be great."