The Birdfeeders

Uncle Jack Jahodnik was bald - the top of his head looking like a strawberry that is just slightly over-ripe. At the annual Jahodnik family BBQs, the nephews would always purposely don bright green and sit, surrounding Uncle Jack. It tickled him pink to think he was the favored uncle.  In truth, Jack was fairly vile and had never been anyone’s favored anything. Even his wife had never really seemed fond of him. The devious plan, however, was to fool a berry-eating bird or two that Uncle Jack’s noggin was, in fact, the biggest, juiciest, most available strawberry ever grown. He was, perhaps, the flavored uncle. 

The year it finally worked was the last time the Jahodnik family ever gathered. The full flock of fifty fire-red finches that insisted on harvesting the berry, no matter how much it flailed and screamed, no matter how much it insisted that it was not a berry, no matter how much it was, in fact, not a berry, did not give up until they’d had their fill of Uncle Jack jam. But that wasn’t the reason the regularity of family gatherings stood stock still. 

After the flock had flown, even though they had been quite thorough,  there was a bit of clean-up to be done. Tom, the youngest of the nephews at 12, was the first to grab a fistfull of paper towels and begin trying to remove feathers and flesh from the picnic table. “I can’t believe it worked this time!” he squealed, giddy from the excitement. “I can still remember the first time we tried it. I was only little but I remember being in Mom’s arms. Uncle Jack was sitting in his lawn chair, sweating and grumbling about the heat or the flies. The image is so clear in my head. I looked down and it was the first time I had seen him from that angle and I just remember my whole head filled with the image of strawberries. I think my mouth even started to water. I’m sure that was the year Uncle Pete was hosting.” 

Tom continued cleaning gobs up with his paper towels as everyone observed a quick moment of silence for Pete - widely recognized as one of the cheapest bastards ever to walk the earth - but deeply missed, nonetheless.

“I know Pete was hosting because it was the year he had gotten that deal on the green napkins and everyone was given their own personal value-pack to use. My pre-school class had just done a project on birds and watched a video on their eating habits so I was on a big bird kick and would do whatever it took to get one of my own. I remember grabbing Mom’s napkin out of her hand, diving down to hug Uncle Jack’s neck, and sticking Mom’s napkin to the top of my head with a glob of ketchup. I just knew that a bird would spot me from above and dive in for a snack. I was so devastated that it didn’t work, that you guys all tried the next year and every year since. I know it’s been a while, and I know it's a bit of a mess, but thanks guys. This meant a lot.”

Adam, the eldest nephew at 17, spat on the sticky dirt at his feet. “You know most of what you just said is nonsense.” Tom began to bristle as Adam continued. “First of all, it wasn’t at Uncle Pete’s because he was dead already by the time we started this. He just bought so many damn green napkins that we each got our own pack every year for at least 3 years after he was gone. It was at Jack’s that year, out in the country. It was the year that Aunt Janet had died so Jack finally gave up the toupee. I was the first one to notice - at the funeral. We were sitting right behind Uncle Jack. You were napping most of the time, I think, but Josh was right next to me and I can still remember the crazy giggle he let out during Uncle Max’s eulogy when I held up my phone next to the back of Jack’s head to compare the image of the ripe strawberry. After the funeral, at the reception, Josh and I devised the plan, but the only birds in the reception hall were Aunt Janet’s two cockatoos, freshly stuffed and refeathered following the combine incident. They weren’t interested in any berries - plant or meat based.”

At this point, Josh, 13 ½ and voice cracking piped up. “My ear still rings from your mom boxing me after you made me giggle. But Adam is right. We began planning for the family BBQ right there and then at the reception. By the time two months had passed and the BBQ was upon us, Adam and I had done so much research, we could tell you every berry eating bird between here and Poughkeepsie. But resources were a problem until we remembered the napkins. We insisted on helping to set up and stashed piles of green napkins everywhere in the yard the Jack might possibly end up. So it wasn’t luck that there was a napkin nearby as you noticed Jack’s noggin for the first time. And you certainly didn’t stick it to your head yourself. As you lunged for Jack while grabbing at the napkins, it was actually Adam, his hotdog perfectly positioned, who let drip the drops that would stick the green mass to your head. Uncle Jack had no idea what was going on.“

“I guess it doesn’t really matter how it started, now that it’s done. I can’t believe the different ideas we hatched - the year we actually stole, incubated, and hatched a bunch of starling eggs with the intention of breeding our own bird army. . . ” Tom reminisced, chuckling.

“These BBQs will be unbearable now. What are we gonna do?” 

Adam made eye contact with the other two and all together, the three eyed the hairlines of their remaining relatives.