Channeling Aggression

The following case study has been compiled from notes and analysis supplied by yours truly through the summer of 2008. It is an exhaustive exercise in how to channel aggressive energy. The creature involved in this case study shall be referred to as; “You little Bleepty Bleep!” The area of study is confined to my bird feeder and back yard. I felt compelled to share this clinical information with you to help you deal with your aggressive tendencies and allow you to channel ill will and anger fluidly and easily through back yard exercise. So let me begin.

I took my position next to the dish rack and slowly peered out my kitchen window and began my daily search for the evil creature that had been causing me great angst. I had set the trap earlier in the morning and had a knowing that this time I would defeat him fair and square in the field of battle. The hose was hooked up and the high velocity nozzle attached. I had checked and double checked for any kinks and was confident that I could loose a fusillade of water on my nemesis if and when he attempted his daily raid. Dressed in my combat chartreuse colored bath robe with matching slippers I gripped the old tennis shoe as tightly as one would a hand grenade. My breath was slow and controlled and the window freshly cleaned for maximum vision. There were two finches on the bird feeder and the wind was from left to right and the leaves gently shimmered. If I knew the “little Bleepty Bleep,” he’d be along shortly. I ran quickly through the routine. The patio door was unlocked and this time the screen pulled back. That had been an expensive lesson. My field of fire was clear and a second old tennis shoe was stock piled on the potting table just outside the patio door. Today was going to be the day I broke through.

Then I noticed an unnatural movement in the tree. A branch had moved right to left. I hunkered down and felt the tennis shoe in my hand. It’s amazing what happens to a fifty nine year old man when the adrenalin starts to kick in. I could barely feel the pulled back muscle incurred six months ago while drying my soup bowl. I don’t know how many times I had dried that bowl using that same toweling method, but it was a severe pull. My muscles were taut and I felt like I was twenty again and then, there he was. He was eying my bird feeder and I could almost reach out and touch the beady eyed “Little Bleepty Bleep.” Then I noticed the tail flinch. That was a bad sign as his radar had picked me up. He stared at the feeder and then looked at me. What was he doing? Then it dawned on me. He was calculating. Yes, he was calculating how many black oiled sun flower seeds he could consume before I burst out the patio door! Why the devious “Little Bleepty Bleep had been timing me like a first base coach times a pitcher's move to home plate. I had seen the stop watch wrapped around his left paw last week and hadn’t made the connection. Screw it. The victory would go to the aggressor and I was THE AGGRESSOR today! I leapt toward the door. Yes indeed, a highly athletic fifty nine year old man can still "leapt" when he puts his mind to it.

I burst out the door at the very moment the “Little Bleepty Bleep” had hurled his body upon my bird feeder and I fired the tennis shoe in his direction just missing him. I felt a very sharp pain in my shoulder, but wounds in combat were a part of this business so I sallied forth, right arm dangling at my side. The “Little Bleepty Bleep had leapt (His leapt was better than mine) into the tree and then he made a crucial mistake. He headed up the tree and as soon as he was at the top you could see look on his face, the “Aw Damn” expression as he looked back down and saw my sardonic grin. I turned the hose on and let him have it. He started down and then hesitated and I nailed him practically knocking him out of the tree. Fear gripped those beady little eyes all the while I chased his miserable little ass about the tree. Panicked, he made a run for it and dove for the ground. As an expert marksman I tracked him all the way down to the ground and gave pursuit. The “Little Bleepty Bleep” was fast but the adrenalin had converted me into an automated killing machine. Then I made my first tactical error.

I forgot the hose was attached to the hose bib which was connected to a very heavy house, a house that outweighed me considerably. My good left arm was yanked violently and I twirled in a death spiral to the ground like a fallen gun fighter albeit in a chartreuse robe with matching slippers. As I lay there it did occur to me that the neighbor lady across from my back yard was turning to her husband over a delicious cup of coffee and saying, “Harry, the back yard lunatic is at it again. Oh my, he doesn’t wear underwear!”

I looked up at the fence and the “Little Bleepty Bleep” sat there, wet and angry. He knew how close he had come to being had and he was all bent out of shape. He started that tail flipping barking routine and I can only imagine the vile expletives being hurled my way. I gingerly picked myself up off the wet grass and went to the hose bib and turned it off. I made a mental note that the hose was thirty feet in length and factored that into my next encounter. I felt I had won the day. I went back inside and helped myself to four Ibuprofens and headed for a well deserved shower. I probably needed to abandon the chartreuse robe and maybe search for a pair of camouflage pajamas. I didn’t want the neighbor lady to know more than she needed to know about me. After a good shower I ventured triumphantly into the kitchen for a well deserved second cup of coffee. There was a movement to my left outside the window. Why that damn “Little Bleepty Bleep” was hanging upside down on my bird feeder stuffing his face. I whirled and headed for the patio door!