I felt like crap on a stick today, so I stayed home from work to recharge the old batteries. Of course, this meant a lot of crappy reality television; about a million iPhone commercials; various catnaps and naps with cats splayed on top of me; and a brief moment when I considered leaping off my balcony in a bid to spear the cardinal outside the window chirping his very boring, very monotone chirp.
This cardinal is not to be confused with the sparrows that have returned to their rightful place beneath the AC unit in the bedroom window and have been waking me each morning at 6 with their cheery chirps. Well, I suppose I should say had returned, since I coaxed Phil into coming over and helping me heave the AC unit onto the bed (thus soaking the mattress, d’oh!) so I could clean out the new nest and rig something up to block them from building nest v3.0. Turns out the best I could come up with was a chopped-up shoebox, wedged into the nooks and crannies so as to block curious little nest-builders from even trying to shimmy under the AC. Who knows if it’ll work long-term. But chances are, I will be able to sleep past 6 tomorrow morning, and that’s definitely worth a mutilated shoebox. or twelve.
Of course, there was a little egg in the nest I cleaned out. Phil looked at it and, in his animal-whisperer way, determined that it was rotten. I told him to throw it in the trash, so he tossed it out the window and it splattered on some clean white car’s hood. And, sure enough, it was rotten. Phil phelt so bad that he went downstairs and cleaned off the car’s hood.
I don’t feel too bad for the birds. There are other AC units, and other trees in my neighborhood. There will be more eggs, and better environments in which to raise a baby bird than beneath the noisy, wet belly of an air conditioning unit that belongs to a selfish, grumpy lady who has had her fill of intrusive wildlife.
I would hate you for being cruel to animals if I weren’t still putting peanut butter laced with Comet outside. I’m not that much of a hypocrite.
And there are still squirrels around. Perhaps they are zombie squirrels.
“Phil looked at it and, in his animal-whisperer way, determined that it was rotten.”
When I first skimmed that, I thought it said that Phil whispered to the egg that it was rotten.
*shakes head*
When they come into your space uninvited, you do all that is humanly and humanely possible to escort them out peaceably, so you can all co-exist on this beautiful planet.
When that doesn’t work, you go all Ripley on they alien asses.
Beautiful photo.