Tag Archives: birds

The Magpie Massacre… aka My Life Has Gone To the Birds…

Birds… birds, birds, birds, birds… and more dagnabbed birds.  BIRDS!  My car out in the driveway always looks like several Magpies painted it with turd hoppers… the other half looks like a cross between a deer hunting camo and the last prize winner at the Demolition Derby.  Before I wax even more poetical about things no one cares about, allow me to get to the point.  It just so happens to be the time of the year where the young flocklings nest in Whitney’s window well, cause a ruckus and keep me awake for 12 years, and then eventually end up dead somewhere due to some predatory animal or George of the Feral Jungle Cat.  I refuse to think Lucy-Fur could ever be so cruel… Lucy-Fur!  Stop it!  The other night (aka really early morning), whilst I was trying to do some homework, I heard a thud against my window and then very near-by chirping noises.  I didn’t even have to turn the light on… I knew what it was.  This happens on a yearly basis just as the robin eggs hatch and the newly-winged robinettes (or owlettes or magpie-lettes, etc., etc.) learn to fly.  Kentucky and Fried showed up as if on cue…

Oh, Kentucky and Fried… I barely knew ye.  I learned from friend Audrey that friend Karen was a fan of the bird friends, so we texted Karen to see if she had any ideas on how to keep these precious suckers alive for more than 12 seconds.   You ought to know that Karen would pull off her right arm if you needed one, so of course she shows up on the doorstep at around 6:00 with the North Logan animal control officer.  They were like the magical team of bird refuge savers… except with less bird doo on their persons.  Nice Mr. Animal Control dude gently removed the little fellers from the window with a long net and set them near the tree that their parent birds were dive-bombing.

The National Society of Bird Refugeers From Random Window Wells of People Named Knit-Whit.  They certainly saved my future night’s of sleep and gave me a bit of peace of mind that the little fellers would still go on living.  Magpie DooDoo Central be durned!   Peace of mind, that is, until that very night/early morning when I once again heard that ever-familiar thud followed by incessant chirping noises…

This time only Fried returned… and what do you know, he still couldn’t manage to fly himself out of my window well.  Night 2 of sleeplessness.  This time I made my dad fish him out with a fishing net (who do I look like… someone who would risk getting the bird flu by getting them out myself!?!?!?  As if!)  And wouldn’t you know, he’d returned to the same danged window well the next evening.  I’m thinking Fried is some sort of Urkel of the bird population… except without suspenders and a snorting chirp.  THE HUMANITY!?!?!?  The charade went on until it was discovered on Saturday that there was a non-alive version of Fried sitting out on the lawn.  Let us all take a moment of silence to mourn for dear Kentucky and Fried.  When they say “Feed the Birds, tuppence a bag,” I really think they were talking about lunch for The Society of the Magpie Massacre-ists. Until next year, robinettes… in the meantime… I’m getting out of the bird business.  Anyone have a BB Gun I could borrow?  I have a Magpie Society Meeting to attend manana.

***

Because friends, Karen and Audrey are basically the sweetest, they also dropped off a gift for me…

I was verklempt… but in the best way possible.  What a thoughtful gift that I will look at with fondness for years to come.  Thank you, sweet ladies!  I sure am lucky to have such great people in my life!

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Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

I think I’ve mentioned on several occasions about my deathly fear of all things bird.  Birds from a distance are fine and dandy, but put me up close and personal with a wild bird and look the heck out, Oprah!  It all started for me back when I was 4 years old visiting my grandparents farm.  I loved animals back in those days and I had no problem going up to one and petting it.  That is until the wild turkey incident.  This schizophrenic turkey that was bigger than I was decided it would be a great idea to attack the 4-year-old me.  He knocked me to the ground, sat on top of me and started pecking and flapping his wings… and I done near lost it.  When I was finally able to free myself I was gone.  If they were holding Olympic Track events in the same vicinity, I’d have won the 800-yard dash at the age of 4 (is there such a competition… I don’t really care… pretend there is).  Ever since then I haven’t cared for birds… and somehow every birdy on the planet knows this about me, so the plan is to torture Whitney… that’s third on their list right below fly South for the winter and poop on anything that moves.

My car is the only one in the neighborhood decorated with bird doo.  I don’t mean one or 2 splotches… I mean the whole dagnabbed car.  It doesn’t matter how many times I wash the sucker… 10 minutes later… voila.  I’ve already blogged about the owl that lived in my window well and freaked me the heck out every time I saw it.  I’ve had baby robins living in my window well with a psychotic mother who tried to lay a nest in my hair every time I walked past it.  Magpies hate me… that one falcon that dive bombed me because he could hated me.  It’s like Whitney versus the BIRDS… ALL of them!

This fact is what made what happened to me this afternoon even more hilarious… yet pretty dagnabbed predictable.  I was driving back from my lunch hour walk when I was suddenly amidst a gaggle of chickens and hens and roosters and any manner of feathered species crossing the road and jumping around like their heads done about to be cut off.  No joking around!  Of course I freaked out, slammed on my brakes and then tried not to hyperventilate whilst I waited for them to make their way across the street.  So, I’m in my car sitting in the middle of the road, parked… not moving at all when all of a sudden this huge brown chicken up and flies right into my dagnabbed windshield.  Thank all that be holy the windshield was there because my hair was looking mighty nesty…  I sat in my car trying to reassure them chickens that I was not a representative from the local Kentucky Fried Chicken… right after I assured them that I was indeed a vegetarian-vore.  Your people are safe with me, ye mighty chickens!

So, why did the chicken cross the road?  Obvious answer… because Whitney’s nesty hair lived on the other side.

Question of the Day:  Do you have an irrational fear of any particular animal(s)?

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