Within one week of moving into the “new house”, five years ago, I received an early morning wake-up call.
I detest early morning wake-up calls.
This particular “howdy” came at 4:00 in the morning.
That’s not even morning time, people!
It hailed from the birds (and I can only assume there were one hundred and seventy-two of them from the cacophony they made) all perched on the one branch hanging closest to my bedroom window.
Sweetman, bless his heart, was sawing logs.
That’s snoring, for you uninitiated.
But these birds, they were determined to have an all-out twitter party. Right outside my bedroom window. I could not, no matter how hard I tried, fall back to sleep with All The Tweeting.
I envisioned a Lookout Bird peeking in my blinds for signs that I was nodding off.
“Twitter… NOW!” I imagined it saying to his tweety peeps.
And they did. Oh, how they did!
This same party happens every year around the same time of year.
As in, now.
So, last night…
“I have children to mother, you birds!”
They were unfazed.
I rattled the window.
Ah, that stopped them!
For five seconds.
I decided that a change of venue might lure me back to sleep. So, I tip-toed downstairs and read a Good Word. I wrote a few not-so-good words. I prayed some desperate-for-sleep words.
I trudged back up the stairs hoping, praying, that the dratted Twitter Party was over.
Alas, it was not.
So, I decided to make a game of it by giving each different tweeter a name.
Sarge was the most vocal. And it may well have been a female, because I know in this house…
Sweetpea was melodic. I didn’t mind her so much.
Doodle seemed to have trouble staying with a train of tweet. I feel ya, birdie.
Brutus gave loud quick calls in the midst of all the twittering. Maybe he was the flock’s governing official?
On and on it went. It was quite the twitter party, only, one I had no desire to be at.
And then, finally, somewhere in the midst of Doodle and Sweetpea’s duet, I fell asleep.
Only to wake up to my sweetchildren announcing, “Mama! Wake up! The birds are singing.”
After five years, I’ve finally gotten smart. For, today, I asked Mr. Google, “How do I scare away unwanted birds?” He was not very helpful, as most of the advice provided involved finding an acceptable noise to drown out the singing. Useless because 1) I already use a box fan for sound and 2) Snore-a-saurus is in the bed next to me.
Wading through talk of territorial males and migratory bird law, I was able to uncross my eyes long enough to stumble across a possible solution.
If you need me, I’ll be searching for bird netting. And stringing it across every tree in my front yard.
And, if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days?