Fucking Birds (part 2)

If you haven't already read Fucking Birds (part 1) you should scroll down and do that. This story will make more sense when you do.

So now you know I hate birds. And rightly so. I haven’t had any problems with them lately, unless you count that rogue bat in Tennessee. That is until the other night.

I’ve sort of been on a clean living kick (well, as clean as I can get.) This involves not smoking any cigarettes during the day and not going out as much. So last week, on one of my “healthy nights” where I wasn’t going out, I was going to stay home and relax and watch TV, I decided I could splurge and smoke one cigarette…considering I wouldn’t be out drinking and smoking. One cigarette wasn’t so bad…right? It definitely was.

So I head out onto my front porch and light one up. I’m taking a few puffs off of it and everything is fine and dandy. Until I catch something fluttering around out of the corner of my eye. And when I turn and look, this fluttering thing makes a beeline for my fucking head. So after a very dramatic duck and cover I look up and realize that there isn’t just one flying creature, but two. And number two was coming straight for my head too. Fuckers. Now I’m yelling…for a lot of reasons. Firstly, it’s happening so fast that I can’t quite tell if they’re birds or bats. They appeared to have feathers, but I didn’t get a good look. Secondly, I’m yelling because now I think my hair is on fire, because that’s bound to happen when you huddle up into a ball with a cigarette in your mouth. And thirdly, I’m yelling because I don’t like things flying at my fucking head. Birds, bats…anything.

I finally come up for air…and to see if my hair is fully engulfed in flames (I have done that before…it can happen) or if it’s just singed. Thankfully, only a few pieces got stuck on the end of the cigarette, so all is good. Except that these stupid birds can’t seem to get away from my porch. So now they keep fluttering by me and slamming into the house. They appeared to be afraid to fly past the hanging flower baskets. I don’t know what they’re so fucking afraid of, considering they make nests in the damn things. I flick my cigarette out onto the lawn because I don’t want to burn anything else, and who knows when I’ll have to take cover again.

I go back into the house to a very excited dog. She’s a Lab and she thoroughly enjoys chasing wildlife. It’s her instincts. Between me yelling and the birds banging into the house she is now trying to break out the front door in a Lassie like attempt to save me or something. I don’t really think it had anything to do with me…I’m sure she just wanted to chase the birds. Whatever, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and continue to think of her as my savior.

I come to find out from Crazy Nanny that they were in fact birds and not bats. She (thinks she’s a wildlife expert) is sure that they were sparrows and they were making a nest in one of the baskets.

I’ll tell you one thing though. That’s enough with clean living. I marched right to my room that night and changed my clothes. And promptly headed to The Ark. Where I drank beers and smoked cigarettes and had no more interactions with crazed wildlife. Well…that is if you can consider all the regulars at The Ark to be human…and not crazy.

Below, my fearless hero: