Tightening the Perch

Hopped off the side table, slipped past the back slider door, and wandered out to the stone patio. Sitting near the garden edge was an old cedar bird feeder resting on a low retaining wall, its little dowel perch wobbling every time a breeze picked up. I stepped up onto the rough flagstone, wedged a dry pine sliver beneath the loose wooden joint, and tapped it in snug with the flat side of a clean brass washer I found on the ground. Gave the dowel a firm downward nudge with my hand—solid, zero give. Sat down beside it to watch the morning quiet settle over the grass. Heh, feels good when things stay put.