We’ve got a family of
purple house finches in the yard with three fledglings. The fledglings are still a bit awkward in flight but do well enough; they can land on our feeders and gorge themselves, as they do pretty much all day.
But they still harass their parents for food. Here’s Father Finch being importuned by a baby, which is flapping its wings and screeching to demand that food be stuffed directly into its maw — just a few feet from a 24/7 all-you-can-eat buffet:
So, Papa feeds the little screecher:
But that just makes the little bird flap harder and screech more loudly:
So he feeds it some more:
It STILL won’t shut up, so Dad says, “Fuck it, I’m out.”
But another hungry chick awaits him on the next branch. Poor Papa Purple.