I’m having a hard time picturing birds being enraptured by the scent of bacon. Seems something more along the lines of the suet smell would be more likely to draw the boys in.
I recall being wrapped in a blanket against my will. My parents told me I was two, and I was being wrapped in a sheet to hold me still for some stictches, or it may have been for an injection. Even the memory of being told this is so long ago that it’s vague.
One mark of a good person is caring about things which do not affect them personally, but which do affect others. It’s called empathy.