I'm spittin' those things up too
I'm deadly accurate with those "things", I mean lamas and spitting cobras envy me. So, I'd temporarily blind albatross, and tie their feet. Keep 'em captive and hungry until I acquired sufficient number to form an albatross team-- you know, like a reindeer sled team. Then I'd give Santa a much needed break from his South Pacific route. Much too warm there for the old codger (and imagine how the kids would freak if they ever saw him in his skimpy swim suit, all white and hairy). The ball of clay? Well that's like a lump of coal for all the bad welder boys and girls.