Me vs. the birds ... again
Perhaps in another life, I might have been a Nature Queen, scaling mountains alongside my possee of friendly wolves and raccoons, sleeping on pallets of donated feathers from benevolent geese, nestled up in the crook of an overprotective bear's neck while jungle monkeys gathered nuts and berries for me. Hey, it could have happened. In a magical forest.
Instead, nature and I, we don't really get along all that well. You see, I am a colossal wuss. Aside from the time I spent outdoors playing sports, I was always more of an indoor kid. Some kids liked going outside to eat dirt; I preferred to stay inside and read Great Expectations. So, now, much of the time I spend outdoors is spent wondering if there are ticks falling on me from the sky. So I try to leave nature alone most of the time, and just kind of observe it in all its big, beautiful messy wonder. I like nature. I want nature to flourish. I don't want it to be paved. But I do like nature to leave me alone in certain circumstances.
Namely, when I'm sleeping. Nature always seems to come at me hardest when I'm on my bed*.
Perhaps you recall the horrific squirrels-coming-through-the-ceiling-above-the-bed incident.
Or maybe the traumatic brown-recluse-crawling-next-to-my-ear incident, which also happened while I was lying on my bed.
And surely you've not forgotten the great bird caper of the summer of '04, chronicled here, here, and here.
Good times, all.
So it won't surprise you to know I've got a bird problem again.
That's right — a freaking family of sparrows has decided to make its home in the little cranny beside my air-conditioning unit, which is situated, you guessed it, right beside my freaking bed. So each morning at the smelly asscrack of dawn, those sparrows start up their happy chirping as I am entering (if I'm lucky) my second hour of sleep. Even with the loud-ass air on high, I can still hear them. It's like they are in my skull.
They start up, and I lean over to the window and smack at it a bit. I see them fly away and perch in the nearest tree until the coast is clear. Then they come back and chirp as if nothing had happened. Repeat ad nauseum. The crappy thing is, I can't figure out how to remedy the problem. I am not able to reach the cranny from the adjacent window. My only hope is to go outside and get a really long pole and see if I can knock their nest down.
And there is nothing like wishing for the death of a happy, chirping bird to remind you of just how evil you are.
As if I needed even more proof.
*If you made it through that sentence without snickering, you are a better person than I. As if you needed more proof!
Instead, nature and I, we don't really get along all that well. You see, I am a colossal wuss. Aside from the time I spent outdoors playing sports, I was always more of an indoor kid. Some kids liked going outside to eat dirt; I preferred to stay inside and read Great Expectations. So, now, much of the time I spend outdoors is spent wondering if there are ticks falling on me from the sky. So I try to leave nature alone most of the time, and just kind of observe it in all its big, beautiful messy wonder. I like nature. I want nature to flourish. I don't want it to be paved. But I do like nature to leave me alone in certain circumstances.
Namely, when I'm sleeping. Nature always seems to come at me hardest when I'm on my bed*.
Perhaps you recall the horrific squirrels-coming-through-the-ceiling-above-the-bed incident.
Or maybe the traumatic brown-recluse-crawling-next-to-my-ear incident, which also happened while I was lying on my bed.
And surely you've not forgotten the great bird caper of the summer of '04, chronicled here, here, and here.
Good times, all.
So it won't surprise you to know I've got a bird problem again.
That's right — a freaking family of sparrows has decided to make its home in the little cranny beside my air-conditioning unit, which is situated, you guessed it, right beside my freaking bed. So each morning at the smelly asscrack of dawn, those sparrows start up their happy chirping as I am entering (if I'm lucky) my second hour of sleep. Even with the loud-ass air on high, I can still hear them. It's like they are in my skull.
They start up, and I lean over to the window and smack at it a bit. I see them fly away and perch in the nearest tree until the coast is clear. Then they come back and chirp as if nothing had happened. Repeat ad nauseum. The crappy thing is, I can't figure out how to remedy the problem. I am not able to reach the cranny from the adjacent window. My only hope is to go outside and get a really long pole and see if I can knock their nest down.
And there is nothing like wishing for the death of a happy, chirping bird to remind you of just how evil you are.
As if I needed even more proof.
*If you made it through that sentence without snickering, you are a better person than I. As if you needed more proof!
Labels: anatomy of an apartment, birds, I hate/love nature
posted by theogeo | 6/08/2007 10:34:00 AM
4 Comments:
I'm fairly tolerate of invasions of my dwelling by various critters -- 18 years in an old, old rural house creates a tolerance. I never though got to the point where I enjoyed being woken by chirping birds next to my ear -- it happened frequently because my bedroom was converted attic space and they had moved into the space between the sheet metal and the drywall. I always beat back on the wall, but it wasn't ever really effective.
Collect some ferret urine. (I leave that to you to figure out how.) Mix with water and fill a Super-Soaker with it. From the adjacent window spray the nest. The birds will stay far away from then on.
Effective and nature-friendly way of establishing your human hegemony over the annoying natural world!
WordK, so you feel my pain! Living in the country upped my tolerance, too, or so I thought, because then again, I remember spending my youth complaining about the same kinds of shit. So maybe not!
Mike, duly noted. I'm off to find a water gun!
Ever seen "Failure to Launch"? Zooey Deschanel plays a woman who's tormented by a bird nesting & chirping right outside her window, and it's driving her absolutely crazy. This subplot is the only high point of the movie.
She retaliates with a BB gun. Do you have a BB gun?
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