A Wicked Good Bird Feeder

At the beginning of the week, a bear knocked down our bird feeder. The pole was snapped off at the base, and the top was smashed to smithereens. (For those who haven’t read all about it, here is the link: https://hinterlands.me/2019/10/25/exit-destroyed-by-a-bear/)

Time for handyman Clif to spring into action. First, a new top was needed. Clif went back to the store where we had bought the feeder umpteen years ago, but no luck. He also checked online. Again, no luck. You might think at this point we would have considered buying a new feeder, but you would be wrong. We are Mainers, and Mainers have a reputation for making do and coming up with, ahem, creative solutions.

For various reasons, we had accumulated four laundry baskets over the years. Clif asked, “What do you think about using one of the white ones for the top?”

“Excellent idea,” I said, delighted with the notion of using something we already had. And after all, we would still have three laundry baskets. Plenty for a household with two people.

Lickity split, Clif cut off the top of one of our white laundry baskets and fashioned a top for the feeder.

The sacrificial laundry basket
The new top


Next, it was time to pound a new pole deep into the ground.

As Clif couldn’t find the right sized pole for the feeder, part of the old pole was slipped into the new pole. Then, to support the lower baffle, out came the trusty duct tape—the delight of all handy men and women, especially Mainers. (I’ve even repaired old gloves with it.)

Then, voilΓ ! Time to put on the feeder with its new top.

“Pretty darned good,” I said, borrowing an expression from my Yankee husband.

Almost immediately, the grateful birds began coming to the feeder. Following the advice of several of my blogging friends, we have taken in the bird feeder at dusk. No point in asking for more trouble.

Next week, we will get some black spray paint for the pole. But the top is plastic, and we will leave that alone.

A note about the use of the word wicked in the title. Mainers use the word wicked the way brilliant is used in the UK. Nearby, there is even a business named Wicked Whoopies, and I could have one of those delectable treats right now. They really are wicked good.

So there you have it. A wicked good fix for a wicked good feeder.

48 thoughts on “A Wicked Good Bird Feeder”

  1. Looks fantastic! Love the DIY creativity. I bring our upper-balcony hanging feeders in too as soon as it gets dark, due to raccoons. Not just to prevent feeder damage but to prevent injuries to the raccoons because they take some risky chances when reaching for the feeders.

  2. I don’t know how I missed the post about the bear – oh wait, it was the day I was travelling over to the U.K. where, in fact, ‘wicked’ can also mean ‘brilliant’ although it’s probably been superseded by now – I think ‘sick’ was in vogue for a while.
    Great work with the bird feeder – very innovative use of an old laundry basket.

    1. That’s why I provided the link. πŸ˜‰ Very interesting how “wicked” is used that way in the U.K. Maine are descended from English and Scottish settlers. Maybe it came over with them. Who knows?

  3. I have a friend from Maine so I long ago learned that “wicked” is a superlative! Re duct tape: you know the saying: if it sticks and it’s not supposed to, WD40; if it doesn’t stick and it’s supposed to, duct tape. Works for me!

  4. What a great job Clif has done, it reminded me of the way my Dad always fixed things, he was an early re-cycler…. and he loved his duct tape…it must be universal.

  5. The bird feeder clearly will serve its purpose well, despite being made of repurposed parts. As for duct tape, I’m currently using it to hold together the keyboard case for my iPad — can I apply for honorary Mainership?

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