Bird-Watch 2015!: A Story of Avian Trauma

First let me say, I am a Disney Princess. Make no mistake, I am the frumpiest Disney princess, but I am a Disney princess.

(Did my eyes really used to be that blue? What happened to them? Do blue eyes turn grey when you make your first student loan payment?)

(Did my eyes really used to be that blue? What happened to them? Do blue eyes turn grey when you make your first student loan payment?)

Piece of evidence #1: I like to sing about my activities. Though I will tell you, people tend to not join in. They sometimes even tell me to stop it.

Piece of evidence #2: When I was a child, I had giant eyes. Only-possible-by-Photoshop eyes.

Piece of evidence #3: I have woodland animals using my patio as a hangout spot. Raccoons, rabbits, a chorus of bees (another story), and count em, three bird’s nests all use my patio as a rendezvous point for their hijinks. I have the mauled strawberry plants to prove it.

It was one of the bird’s nests that had me shouting at the air, “I’m sorry! I’ll leave it alone! I’m sorry!” You see, I unknowingly kidnapped one of the bird’s nests and the four eggs inside of it.

Last Monday, my county was under a strong wind advisory, so I decided it was a good, not-terrible plan to move my hanging strawberry plant inside. Awesome.

However, it wasn’t until two days later I think, “oh, I should move it back outside! Nothing has gone wrong! Everything is fine!” It’s when I’m walking back outside with the plant in my hand, I look down. Genuine reaction: scream, freeze, look around to make sure there are no birds inside the apartment (what if the mama wanted to defend her babies?), and then bolt outside muttering “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry” under my breath. Back on the hook. No one has died. Great.


This may be the point when you say, “well there you go. Now leave it alone, and go play your iPad game.” You may be forgetting, I am a self-respecting twenty-something with a SmartPhone. I decide, “this is a crazy situation! I better Instagram this! Then back on the hook it goes!” So I start to lift the basket, (mind you, not 30 seconds has passed), when a bird comes fluttering out of the basket. Not only did I steal this bird’s babies, but I STOLE HER HOUSE FROM UNDER HER. Commence shouting apologies at the birds.

Now, this is the point where you say, “put the basket back on the hook and go inside.” But you guys, the basket is already down. Just take the picture. So I instagrammed it. 15 likes, you guys.

I felt awful. AWFUL. So for the next three days, I alternated between trying to lift my phone over the edge of the basket, to try and get a peek, and when I couldn’t get the angle right, I started to stand on one of my patio chairs.

Let’s paint the picture. You’re a bird. Someone stole your babies for two days. But wait, they brought them back! Hooray- but wait, why is the basket moving? She’s doing it again! GODZILLA IS STEALING THE NEST! FLEE!

But then your nest is back, and you finally decide to settle in with your kids, glad they have been returned. When whose face starts to creep over up, curly hair frayed and frizzed, and alien-eyes darting around looking for her next victim, but Godzilla-Monster herself. It may not surprise you to learn the parents didn’t return to the nest for a whole week.

Yesterday I spotted two birds dancing around my tomato cages when what does one do, but fly up to the strawberry plant and settle in. Mama’s back. NOW LEAVE THEM ALONE, SELF.

2 thoughts on “Bird-Watch 2015!: A Story of Avian Trauma

  1. Honey,

    I don’t know what your next career is going to be but writing should be a part of it. You can certainly tell a story in an entertaining way. Love you!!

    Sent from Windows Mail

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