The Battle of the Bird

We have a transom window above our front door. It doesn't open; it's just for decoration.

As such, there is a little bit of a ledge. Apparently, just the right depth for a bird nest.

Or so a particular robin seems to think.

I don't think so.

We use the front door a gazillion times a day. We have a three car garage in the back of the house which we access via an alley. The garage is full of unorganized stuff, so we don't park in it. That's a story for another day. (I know, I think I've been saying that for a couple of years now.)

I am not parking on the driveway, walking around the garage (in the generally wet or snow covered grass), and across the back patio to reach the back door.

Oh. My. Gosh. That's like, 60 feet. At least.

It is so much faster to park on the street and be just a few feet from the front door.

Anywho, back to the bird.

A couple of months ago, I noticed a bunch of grass and whatnot on the front porch right in front of the door. I swept it off into the mulch.

The next day, it happened again. This time I also observed a robin heading toward the house and making a dramatic turn when it saw me.

Gears started turning in my head. No, there wasn't any smoke emanating. I've use my brain often enough to know you have to spray some WD-40 up there once in awhile.

I made my eyes all squinty-like, pursed my lips and thought to myself, "That bird is trying to make a nest up there."

Now, I don't have an issue with birds building nests. I know there would even be interesting learning/observation moments for the kids. But I can't have a bird nest right above my front door.

Birds poop.

A lot.

And their nest isn't their bathroom. It would be my front door and porch right below the nest. I have a home based business and I can't have a front door that is constantly covered in bird poop. Also, since this is our main point of entry, I can't have a bird dive bombing us every time we use it because we're getting too close to the eggs/baby birds.

Sorry, birdie, we were here first. You are going to have to go some place else. A tree perhaps - there is one only ten feet away with a nice amount of leaves to provide adequate coverage. There are even a couple of other places where the pillars support the roof of the porch that would be good nesting spots.

Just not right above the front door!

Well, I couldn't have him building his nest there so I scooped up all his fallen materials and threw them in the trash. I wasn't going to give him easy access so he could just try again.

After I threw away the mess, I saw him up in the transom window trying to build the nest. AGAIN! Doesn't he get that there just isn't enough room up there????

I opened the door, screamed, "Bah!" at him, and he flew away. I looked like a crazy woman in my bathrobe screaming, "Bah!" at my front door for a couple of days afterward.

Whatever he was using to try to build the nest wasn't staying up there anyway. I was constantly cleaning up my front porch and filling my trash with twigs, dried grass, that netting they use to keep sod together, etc.

After a few days, I didn't seen him anymore and thought he had found himself a nice tree to make a nest in.

Until yesterday.

Let me mention we'd just had a real nice storm and the ground was sopping wet. Some would call it muddy.

The bird would call it glue.

Yup, now he had dried grass & twigs & mud.

When I woke up and walked down the stairs, I could see something in the corner of the transom window. More eye squinting and pursed lips. "That bird is back."

I grabbed a coat hanger and knocked down what little he had up there. I scooped up the meager mud hut beginnings and threw it in the trash.

I took my shower and got the family ready for the day.

An hour later, as I walked down the stairs, I actually saw the bird in the transom window with a mouth full of muddy grass. He saw me and flew off into a tree. Where he belongs!!!!!

I grabbed the hanger and knocked down a bigger wad of mud and grass. As I was doing this, I heard, "Gack! Gack! Gack!" I looked at the bird and said, "Don't you talk back to me. You can't build a nest here." I was very stern. I even wagged my finger at him.

I had to run out for a bit. When I returned an hour and a half later, that gosh darned bird had an even bigger wad of mud and grass up in the transom window.

Obviously, my stern warning wasn't enough of a deterrent. I know, it doesn't really work with the kids either. I don't know why I thought it would work on something that didn't even speak my language.

I marched up the porch steps and grabbed the coat hanger. I left it out on the porch earlier. Perhaps it was a passive attempt at a threat, but that didn't deter the bird either.

I flicked the mud off that ledge and it landed with a splat.

I needed a new plan.

To the garage!

After a brief search, I came up with water balloons. Hard to believe it was a brief search in that garage, but it was like a beacon of light was shining on the balloons. Not really, they just happened to be at the end of an eye-level shelf right in front of the access door.

I blew up several and tied them to a string. Ran to the basement for a nail & a hammer. Scrambled to place a chair under the transom window. Stretched on my tippy toes to hammer the nail into casing and tied on my string of balloons. That bird was getting faster at building his mud huts so I had to execute ASAP.

The fluttering balloons should keep him at bay.

I'm determined. I. WILL. WIN.

Silver Lining:

1. 24 hours and counting and there is no more mud in the transom window.


2. I've always resisted putting any nails in the casing around the door and transom window for Christmas garland so my front door has always had just a boring wreath on it. It's a pretty wreath, but just so cliche. Now that the first nail has been driven, I might as well put in some more when I go to put up the Christmas decorations this year.


3. I'll get a head start on those Christmas nails. The balloons are pretty deflated today so I'm going to evenly space some nails and hang old CD's from them using fishing line. Hopefully, they won't be to obvious from the street (and get me in trouble with the HO association), but will flutter enough to keep the bird away.

Did You Know . . .

So I follow a blog called Bless This Nest and she's got this really nifty give-away. We'll get to that in a moment.

What intrigued me was the fact that a company contacted her to do a review of their product. And she ended up with two carafes!

I thought to myself, "I like stuff. I like to talk (and write) about stuff. How do I get in on that action?"

So I went to the god of all knowing: Mr. Google. He never, ever, ever steers you wrong. You can get 500 hundred conflicting answers to ANY question. One of those answers is bound to be correct. Most of the time.

Mr. Google came up with several options, one of which I clicked on. That's his nature you know. He doesn't give you the entire answer until you click on one of the options given. Geez, you have to do some work.

So I give PayPerPost my blog URL and they decided I'm only worth a penny per word. I don't really know how they determine that. It could be the standard rate for all I know. But I was a little insulted.

A penny per word?

Then Hubby, piped in.

Honey, have you ever looked at the length of your posts? If they think they're getting a bargain at a penny per word, they are in for a rude awakening.

Didn't feel so bad anymore.

Anyway, now that I'd accepted my penny per word, they wanted me to "claim my blog".

To do this, I had to write a post containing a statement randomly generated by them. After claiming my blog, I could delete the post.

So here it is: Did you know, monkeys have 12 hairs at any one time?

Seriously?

Only twelve hairs? Those must be some incredibly long hairs because every monkey I've ever seen is extremely hairy.

Or is it that they have at least 12 hairs at any one time?

Well, that's pretty duh. Every monkey I've ever seen is extremely hairy (oooo, déjà vu).

This got me to thinking about other "did you know" type stuff.

Courtesy of Mr. Google, did you know:

• an aphid's reproductive cycle is so rapid, they are born pregnant. That would bite?


• a crocodile's tongue is attached to the roof of its mouth and can not move it? No wonder the don't announce their arrival right before they grab you and drag you under the water for a not so swift drowning.


• it is impossible to out swim a shark? Sharks reach speeds of 30 mph when attacking from below. Humans can swim about 2-5 mph. Boats in movies can only move about 20 mph - daaa-dum, daaa-dum, daa-dum, daa-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.


• Kermit the frog is left-handed?


• cows poop 16 times per day?


• cows produce around 65 pounds of manure a day? Holy shi*t! That's about 4 lbs per poop!


• a group of goats is called a trip? Gives a whole new (albeit sick) meaning to trippin'.

Anywho, now you know.

Hard to believe this all started out as a post about a give away, isn't it? If you're interested, please stop by Bless This Nest and check out her review of the beautiful "Links Carafe" she's giving away.

Silver lining:

1. I sure learned a lot today. How about you?


2. That carafe would sure look nice at my next dinner party. But if I don't win it, it's ok. I had a lot of fun writing this.

Were You Born In A Barn?

I’m sure spring is just around the corner. It was almost 80 on St. Patty’s day, cooler today, but the weekend looks great! Tulips are starting to come up. The air is fresh & crisp. I have to say “Sorry,” to my Northern friends – your snow may not melt for another three months & I’ll be enjoying the return of my summer color.

The problem with this time of year is exterior doors tend to stay open, especially when you’re just running in & out for “a second.” We have a double standard in our house. Hubby and I can leave the door open, but when the kids do it, that common expression is heard, “What were ya, born in a barn, aye?”

I’ve never heard any one say, “Yah. What’s it to ya?” Fortunately, neither one of my kids can say yes. Although, in anticipation of this expression being uttered, we should have had a cardboard cut-out of a barn over my belly during the birth. That would have been pretty funny – pretty fricken’ weird too.

I could go into a full blown description of the scene, but I’ll let you use your imagination. Tell me about in the comments below.

Anyway, on such a leaving-the-door-open occasion, we ended up with a visitor. As we were all leaving for the day (7:30AM), my oldest daughter had to run back inside because she forgot to feed our bird, George. Hubby went with her; therefore, the adult-leaving-the-door-open-is-ok clause was in affect.

I was busy buckling my youngest daughter into her car seat & my back was to the front door. Hubby & Cupie were at the back of the house feeding the bird. That’s why none of us saw the sparrow fly into the house through the open front door.

To make it worse, no one found out about the sparrow until 11PM that night!

Cupie has a tendency to cry as she’s running to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Hubby & I were still downstairs watching TV so I ran up to make sure she made it and calm her down. I sat on the edge of the tub and stroked her hair & wiped away the tears. When Cupie got off the toilet, in the faint glow of the nightlight, I noticed something BIG in the toilet.

I thought, “For cryin’ out loud. What did Stinkles put in the toilet now?” Good thing I was right there. We have those crappy builder grade toilets that stop up if you don’t flush between pooping & dropping the toilet paper in. I can only imagine the mess this “thing” would have caused.

I had to turn on the light so I could see what I was dealing with. When I did, I yelled down to Hubby, “Hubby, get up here!”

Hubby’s first thought was, “How big a turd could it be? Ooo, maybe it’s psychedelic in color!” Understand, he knew nothing of the bird (bird/turd – that rhymes, hee, hee – gee I’m mature, aren’t I?) so he thought if there was something to see in the toilet, it had to be a GIGANTIC poop or be rainbow swirled with neon colors. Dude, unless you’ve been tripping on magic shrooms, neon swirl should not be the first thing popping into your head.

So that I didn’t freak Cupie out anymore than I already did, I sent her to bed quickly.

Hubby arrived to see the amazing poop. Boy, was he disappointed.

We both stood over the toilet looking down. I don’t know what we were thinking – that the bird would just wake up after being peed on and fly out??? What a mess that would have been. I’m picturing the same effect as a dog getting out of a lake and “shakin’ it out” – water goes everywhere & reaks, right? Bird, pee bath, wings a flappin’ – EEEEWWWWWWW!

How the heck were we going to get it out of the toilet & what were we going to do with it???

I wasn’t sticking my hands in the toilet. They don’t make rubber gloves thick enough to entice me to pick up a pee-soaked, dead bird.

After searching the kitchen, I came up with a pair of barbeque tongs & five Wal-Mart bags.

Up in the bathroom, I handed the tongs to Hubby and held open the five-ply Wal-Mart bag.

“What am I supposed to do with this!?!?”

“Use the tongs to get the bird out & put it in here.” I thrust the bag at him. Like, duh!

He looked in the toilet and slowly reached his hand forward. Then, he quickly pulled back. Slowly reach forward, pull back quickly, slowly reach forward . . .

This went on for a bit before I asked him, “WHAT are you doing?”

“I just can’t do it!”

I grabbed the tongs & gave him the Wal-Mart bag. I dove in, got the bird, put it in the bag, left the tongs in the bag, snatched the bag back & took the whole kit-n-kaboodle down to the trash bucket (the one outside, not the kitchen trash).

Leave it to the woman to ultimately take care of things – GIRL POWER!!

Silver lining:

1. Thank God it wasn’t George – that would have scarred us all for life.


2. Cupie doesn’t really know what was in the toilet so we haven’t scarred her for life (at least not with this incident – there are plenty of other events she can discuss with her therapist later).


3. Hubby’s excited – he’s getting a new set of BBQ tongs!

The Family Chef

As Hubby has been busy buying ingredients & preparing for our Christmas dinner, I got to thinking about the family chef when we were growing up. As I've stated before, my mom was not one to cook so this is not about her. . .

We had the goofiest, yet remarkable, dog when I was growing up. She was a Shepherd/Samoyed mix – not too big at about 45 lbs and she had the trademark Samoyed “smile”. We named her Ayla.

She would watch us get on the bus in the morning and be waiting with a smile & tail wag when we returned in the afternoon. Her entire butt would wiggle back and forth she was wagging her tail so hard.

She was agile enough to jump over our four foot fence. Most of the time it was to get over to her buddy, Lady, next door. Lady was a beagle mix so there was no jumping for her. While the neighbors liked our dog and were glad Lady & Ayla got along instead of constantly barking at each other, the dogs would tear up the yard. We had to start keeping Ayla on a leash in the back yard.

After a bath, she would race down the stairs, into the living room, rub her head & side on the carpet, go around the coffee tables, then, back up the stairs. She would repeat this several times until she felt she was sufficiently dry.

Ayla was good at curling up next to you and resting her head on your lap when ever you were sad or not feeling well. She would use her nose to push your hand up so she could tuck her head up under your arm.

What made her so remarkable is that she could cook!

A few facts:
She had a double bowl for water & food.
The food she was raised on was dry.
There was a rug under the bowl.

When she was hungry, she would “cook” her food.
She would dip her nose in the water and slosh some over to the food. Then, she would push her nose into the food a few times to mix. Repeat this dip, slosh, mix activity about three more times. Next, she would use her nose to fold the rug up over the top of her dish.

About a ½ hour later, she would return to eat her dinner.

We tried watering it down for her – no go.
We tried giving her canned dog food – no go.

We never understood it and have never heard of another dog that did this. But it was typical of our Ayla – goofy, but remarkable. Miss her lots.

Silver lining - I have lots of good memories of childhood. All kids should have a pet of some kind.

It's Not Easy Being Green (or brown in this case)

We have a fairly large toad population in our community. The kids love them and they can be kind of cute because they are so small (only about 2 1/2 inchs long). I haven't found them to be a nuisance, but others have complained about the toads piling up in the basement window wells.

Since I don't go in the basement much, I hadn't noticed this problem.

I was down there one afternoon and heard a knocking sound. I checked out the furnace - nothing going on there. I checked the airvents to see if they were blowing on two things hitting each other - nada. Then I turned around, and I saw him - there was a toad in the window well. He was jumping at the window. I swear he could see me and was trying to get my attention - "Help meeeeee"

Now, we have an egress window in our basement. This window is about four by four feet. On the outside there is removable grate on the top of the well and a ladder leading to the bottom. There is no way any animal that is able to get in there will be able to climb out.

That statement was proven by the time I actually walked over to the window where this little toad was jumping at the window. Cue the wild west ghost town music and wind noise. There were rabbit bones!!!!!! And some dried up toads!!!!! EWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!

Oh, my gosh! I couldn't let this little guy suffer the same fate, but I didn't want to climb in with all the dead stuff to get him out. I also didn't want him the basement so I wasn't going to just open the window & take off the screen. There is so much stuff all over the place, he could have hopped in an hidden anywhere.

My sister, Sissy, happened to be over and felt just as bad about the toad. We had to do something! If only we could reach the toad from the top. Neither one of us wanted to climb down the ladder into the well. Good thing her brain was functioning better than mine, she grabbed my daughter's butterfly net. We didn't have to actually get in if we reached down into the well with the net.

We went to the side of the house and between the two of us were able to pull the iron grate off the well. The well and the grate aren't the same size so there is a gap between the house and the grate. That explains how these critters got in there.

Kneeling on the ground, Sissy went after the toad with the net. She really had to stretch in order to get the end of the net all the way to the bottom. You lose a lot of control when you're barely holding on to the end so the toad kept jumping away before we could scoop him up.

Sissy decided one of us had to go down there. She volunteered and it wasn't until she hit the bottom that I realized she was wearing open-toed, platform shoes - really sensible for an animal rescue mission, huh?

She scooped him up and we started for the field across the street. But he hasn't had any water for awhile. We considered that for a moment and decided the best place for him was in the lake on the other side of the field. The grass was pretty long, there were thistles, and who knows what animals were creeping around in there. Good thing there is a canal near by. We walked two blocks and climbed down the grassy bank to set the toad on a patch of mud right by the water. Mission accomplished!!

Silver lining:
1. An animal was saved from a cruel death.
2. I totally felt good about the rescue. I can't imagine the guilt I would have felt if I just left him there.