I was walking the dog the other day at an ungodly predawn hour, as I do most days. And, as on most such days, I was in a pleasant and tranquil, semi-stupefied state of mind. All at once, I heard a loud, protracted screechy growl, like the call of a demented and homicidal rusty screen door. A dark shape flung itself at my head, howling and screeching demonically. It swooped, it slashed, it beat its ghastly wings. It rose then swooped again, making for my head for all it was worth. I yelled 'Stop, you dumb bird!' Wasn't that effective?
Poor dog had no idea what the heck was going on, especially when I took her leash (still attached to her neck) and tried to throw it at the bird. Wasn't THAT effective?
The bird followed me for miles and miles. Or maybe a quarter of a block. At last, I moved out of range of this crazed, nesting mockingbird, who thought I had evil designs on her fledglings.
I now pick up a stick and carry it around with me while I walk the dog. I look like a paranoid lunatic, but I'll be ready for the next attack.
I spent a lot of time in the garden this spring, preparing for the big wedding. I noticed robins were being uncharacteristically frisky. Nuptials were in the air for birds and daughter alike. Robins make me think of middle-aged office workers, intent and serious, stolid, a bit slow moving. Very conscientious, and rather portly. .
Carolina wrens are the cutest of birds. They're little egg-shaped, feathery things, with perky little uptilted derrieres. They perch everywhere and they nest everywhere, too. In outdoor grills, atop empty milk bottles, in the running shoes you left at the back door, seconds after you left them. They are dim little creatures, but cute, very cute. Bird brains.
So there you have it. Good birds, bad birds. If I think of anything else to say about birds, I'll be sure to let you know.