Busy, busy, busy. Must stay busy for the hive. Busy, busy, busy. Must make honey for the hive. Busy, busy, busy. Then, I die.
Mmm. Fly guts taste like chicken, if you are a garden spider.
Silly human. Earth-anchored bi-ped always dreaming of self flight, you have to create machines to bring you closer to the sun while I, the smallest of all the birds, take to the air with the ease of an afterthought. You are humbled when you look at me, I know.Now, fill this feeder.
Don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation. So, come any closer, and I'll bite your head off.That goes for you, too, silly little birdie.
One of us must maintain hegemony over this feeder, and I do not think it is you, silly little bug.
Yawn. When I grow up, I will eat you ALL.
