It was really extremely annoying.
He had been studying the new layout all day. Previously, when food had been loaded onto the platform it had been the work of moments to climb the pole and demolish the pile of goodies. Then, for some bizarre reason, they had greased the pole.
It had taken a few days to work out a route. There was a rope strung across the area diagonally. Sometimes it hosted an array of damp cloth and he found it hard to negotiate but usually he could simply skim along, leap to the feeding platform and indulge. He thought they might move the rope so that even a prodigious leap would not take him to the platform, but really, why should they?
He was sure the changes, like the greased pole, and the occasional cloth hangings could not be directed at him. The food was still put out regularly and even though some birds came to peck and play there was always plenty left. He knew he didn’t frighten the birds, much; they knew he was not a predator so it was a case of live and let live.
And now, today, there were new hazards.
The rope was still there. There were no damp cloths. But there were strange translucent plastic shapes with the rope running through them. When he tried to navigate one it skittered and whirled so that he was decanted to the ground. He tried again. Same result. A starling was, he thought, laughing at him.
The platform was full of delicious snacks and besides, he was hungry. He chittered angrily and felt that the snap and click from the stone hole near the feeder was perhaps the last straw. He had a vague idea that the food providers were laughing at him, too, and somehow recording his despair.