Picture yourself in paradise. Somewhere over a rainbow. Zippidee doo dah land. Through the sidewalk art. In Cinderella’s castle – post-servitude. Blue birds flying, penguins dancing, chickadees whistling, and helpful little know-it-all birdies laying out your clothes while you finish bathing. Don’t you feel relaxed? Doesn’t it make you smile to think of the veritable aviary that has been used to complement the variety of perfect worlds we grew up with?
Now imagine all of that while living as the out and out enemy of all things wing-ed. My sister and I both have a sort of antagonistic relationship with the ornithological world. For proof of her terror, see here. I grew up loving birds. My grandparents had pet birds. They were kinda gross, but I was pre-teen fascinated by the feathery friends. Ever since being attacked on multiple occasions by rather testy mockingbirds though, I have become increasingly the enemy. Where the soothing sounds of chirping birds used to make me smile and relax, I am now caused to duck and cringe. (I do not think it is a mystery why “duck” is a verb AND a bird.)
Now, for the subject of my post. Mockingbirds have been my least favorite bird since the initial attack three years ago. I might just have a new number one though. We have been leaving our windows open at night lately because it has been cool and the fresh air feels refreshing. Apparently a robin has a nest in the tree immediately outside our bedroom window. At precisely 5:15am EVERY day, she wakes and starts shrieking. In case you have never heard a robin’s call, listen. Over and over and over and over. It is approximately the equivalent of being awoken by a full-volume stereo system blaring “In the jungle, the mighty jungle”. We have seriously considered taking lighter fluid and a match to that nest. It’s too close to the house though. And trees are flammable. And I am a good fire chief’s daughter.
So, we close the windows at 5:15 every morning….with the whisper of a cuss word and a wish for a BB gun.
Sleep well my friends.