Sunday, August 9, 2015

Part 3 - The waiting IS the hardest part

It seemed like the more these birds grew…
…the more vigilant their guardians became! (Oh, and the more disgusting their nest and our porch floor got.) 
Here a swoop…

…there a swoop…

…Everywhere a swoop, swoop!

I just couldn't get used to the dive bombing. Even when I expected the ambush, it would come within much closer range than I anticipated. One day I was talking to the neighbor and did my usual ducking, then asked her how close the bird had actually come. Her response was "within four feet". That may not sound close, but have somebody throw something near your head at that distance. Plus, are you one of those people who ducks when you are in your car and "nearly" hit a bird? Come on, admit that you do, despite there being any rational reason to do so. Keep in mind that we have that reflex even when protected by steel and glass.

I was talking to a friend through her car window, that was parked in our driveway.  (She was smart enough to take cover.) A bird flew in between the modest space between us. A few days later, I was descended upon again and my husband reported that the top of my head was eighteen inches from the bird's path. They were closing in!

Enough already! Don't look at me like that, just move on with your lives!
 Yes, the coast is clear, just fly! Believe!

Well now wait a second, there was that nagging metaphor again! Were they really ready to be on their own? Had they truly outgrown the nest? Hold on, in a related metaphorical story, look at how they were squawking at their mother, as if almost ungrateful for the protection, love and food...
…and the mess they were making, and the pouting?
Yes, it was surely time for them to move on. 

As far as the waiting being the hardest part? Perhaps not in terms of suspense, but more just being done with it. Part four will be the finale. (The grandness has yet to be determined.)


  1. How timely...the whole nest flying thing.

  2. It's like you're starring in your own Hitchcock thriller

  3. Oh, my--all that bird poop. I think I'd rather change a diaper. I duck in my car. When I was eighteen, I drove to high school, probably going about thirty mph. A truck going much faster came squealing around the corner. Kids from our rival high school rode in it. They threw a water balloon at my car and shattered the windshield. I had glass all over me. Once in western Maryland my son and I were in downtown Hagerstown when we saw a man get out of a truck holding a rifle. Or a shotgun. I don't know such things. We both instinctively ducked.


  4. That is what I hate...the bird poop on my porch! When birds decide to make a nest in my porch, or to "borrow" something from my wreath, why do they act like it is me that is intruding? So funny about the dive bombing but so true!

  5. Well hopefully they will be gone soon and you guys can take the opportunity this fall to put up some deterrents so it doesn't happen again next summer.

  6. These are really hard to get rid of. We hung streamers around our porch roof to keep them from nesting there.

  7. I was so heartbroken when our barnswallows lost two nests in a month, and gave it up. I think that the sparrows were responsible for the destruction, those evil critters. I was reading up on them, and they really are the thugs of the bird world!

  8. Oh my goodness! That adolescent pout. It's universal and pan-species! Ha!

  9. Stop it with the birds! BAD JUJU!!!!

  10. Here a swoop, there a swoop, and everywhere a poop poop!!! Oh, good Heavens, I remember this, Mom had some birds that nested near her door, it was a suicide mission to use the front door for a while. I started using the back, until that happy day, when Mom said, they've flown, you can go through the front! Then we got to clean the mess... Icky...