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The Birds: Part 2 before/after So, the situation with the birds continues to develop. I brought a ladder into the bird situation. I thought it would be a simple task: climb up, retrieve what must be a nest, place it in a tree, and step out of the naturally selective path. The odds may be against the birds in that scenario, but the odds were definitely against them should the situation continue untended. And besides, I am not running a commune for freeloding aviarians. Anyway. I get a ladder long enough to reach, and attempt the climb. The ladder is rickety, and I was wondering if it would splinter under the weight and positioning, but on I went, striving to restore what used to be my principal hours of sleep. "Fuck it," I thought, I will survive the split and the fall. I closed my mouth, because, well, its always good to make sure your trap is shut in potentially jarring situations. (I have learned this through long experience, take my word for it. Something about why people wear mouth peices and concussions) Envisioning splintering lumber, I climber the old-assed ladder. Arriving eventually at the peak, feeling like WASPS all over were watching me in the neighborhood out of boredom, betting on my fall, I soldiered onward to the roof. I got up to the flashing. No goddam nest. Those birds were scratching until after noon today. (I compensated early on by closing my window and cranking up my box fan a notch. Ahhh...the box fan. Memories of a couple of different girls naked and shivering in my bed in winter as I had, MUST have, the fan run. Girl teeth chattering as I gobble box. Its a simple amusement. How much will she put up with in order to receive superlative oral sex? Experience says: a lot. I have since relented, in case you were wondering. I leave it off now when I have company, because for some reason, somebody somehow made me feel self concious about it.) And nothing. A few straws that didn't belong, but nothing to indicate habitation. Bastards. Got me again. The shame, the shame. Collorary: I heard a bird chirping plaintively in the yard later on in the evening as the sun started to slouch towards the horizon. Looking in the yard, I saw a chubby little bird still with downy feathers like fumes coming off of it, struggling to fly in the thick grass. Every chirp was retorted by its parent in the trees. The bird hobbled around the yard for a bit, as I slunk off. I tend not to be involved in the tenets of nature in such a fashion. I do not interfere. Hopefully, they have moved out, and I can get some sleep.
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