The Pest of a Thousand Decibels

I may owe Beaky an apology.  

Now, before you all gasp your last breaths and cast me out as a collaborator, let me explain: In the past, I may have suggested that Beaky deliberately screeched to high heaven outside my bedroom window of a morning, waking me rudely from my slumber. I may even have utilised such phrases as "Irritating little shit" and "Pest of a thousand decibels" to describe him.  

However, imagine my surprise when leaving the house (by the back door, naturally) particularly early one morning last week, when I discovered that Beaky wasn't the culprit.

I was walking down the path, chopped sultanas in hand (Ummm... to give to the other birds. Not Beaky.), when, from over the garage roof came the telltale and terrible shriek of a blackbird - Although, it could quite easily have been from a banshee. I instinctively ducked as a dark winged form hurtled towards my head. It landed in the remains of the infernal cherry tree and screeched in defiance as I turned and hissed at it, thinking it was Beaky. Then I noticed who I was hissing at: Mrs Beaky!  

I dropped the sultanas in shock, staring incredulously. She dove down and started wolfing down the suculent dried fruit, glaring at me the whole time. Backing up, I almost trod on Beaky who was cowering on the paysho near the rose bush. It seems he'd been skulking in the undergrowth waiting for his shrewish wife to have her fill before he could have a go at the leftovers. We both watched as the greedy cow scoffed the lot, before screeching once more and flying off over the road.  

Beaky looked at me forlornly. I

 couldn't resist his sad hen-pecked little face and promptly rushed back inside to fetch him some more sultanas. What's happened to me?