Should Have Left it At Shoo

Okay, I may have mentioned how much I dislike these horrible Satan Birds who have come back to town after their winter retreat to wherever abominable birds terrorists go for training.  I don't normally talk about those things, especially to the nice-looking potential friends who have moved into the neighborhood.  Their tiny backyard faces our tiny backyard and they are the proud owners of an awesome looking mutt who will be friends with Madigan once her spay scars heal and I can take off the Cone of Shame.

I don't really know the neighbors, but when I met them last week, they seemed like a nice couple.  Had I spoken to them in the last three days, maybe I could have articulated my dislike for the birds, warned them of the neighborhood menace in a deliberate and delicate manner.  Nah...


Just now, Madigan was inside, whining.  She was looking through the window at her food and water bowl, serving six members of the Winged Mafia.  I opened the door a little, but only 3 flew off.  I opened it more to scare another.  One moved about a foot away, and the other looked directly at me, cocking his head to the side.  Bear in mind, these things stole their beaks from woodpeckers and then had them professionally sharpened to a point during their stint in Bird Prison.  I was not in a good place.

I could have closed the door, grabbed the kids and hid under a blanket until Aaron came home, but then my poor dog whined again and everything started to go red.  Plus, since it's Friday, Aaron might be home soon enough to save me before I bled out from a bird attack.  I'm also bigger than this bird and fed up and if these stupid birds aren't scared of the door opening, I'll have to resort to the airsoft pistol and then I'll find out that these things are endangered or the Texas state bird or something.  I had to do something.

I opened the door all the way and stepped one foot out onto the patio, flinging my hand at the bird perched on the water bowl.  I tripped slightly, then regained my balance.  I said "Shoo!" and could have left it at that, but no, I was showing Madigan how much I loved her and trying to save my dignity after tripping in front of my nemesis.  I decided to build on my little "Shoo!" with a stern "THIS ISN'T A F***ING BIRD BATH!"

Satisfied, I picked up the food and water bowl to bring them inside.  As I stood up, I locked eyes with the new neighbor, who was sweeping her back patio.  She may have even been wearing an apron and was probably baking a pie inside.  She stopped, wide-eyed, holding her broom.  I smiled slightly, then turned my embarrassed face towards the house and closed the patio door quickly.

I guess now the neighbor knows I don't like the birds...

And she probably won't invite me to the Norman Rockwell dinner she'd probably having tonight with that pie I imagined.  The birds lost me a friend and, judging from their cackling outside, they think they won this round.

I'll let them think that, because really they just handed me a secret weapon.  In that instant, I noticed that my neighbor's backyard is bird-free.

The next time I have to shoo some birds, I'll be ready: I'm going to bring the broom.