Here’s the thing about English sparrows: as much as I decried their predations (before the grackles arrived), if you’ve
ever got an unsuccessful baking project, they’re always happy to police the
area for you.
Example: some time back I was making scones for
a friend and I forgot the salt, so they came out more like hockey pucks than cream
biscuits. I was going to dump them, but then thought, “Maybe the birds would fancy
them?”
So I put them out, and, hey-presto, the
sparrows were all over them like a rash. Viz:
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