I love birds. I liberally feed them and I am fairly sure that my house is one of the most notable bird tourist attractions in North America. When I come home most days it is not unusual to see upward of fifty birds in and around the vicinity of my bird-feeder (and a like amount on the fence and rooftop awaiting their turn). Not that my bird-feeder is anything special or architecturally unique. It just has a perch area all the way around it and is typically full of seed…I guess in bird world that is just enough to make my bird-feeder the happening place to be. It occurs to me that Alfred Hitchcock’s classic horror story The Birds could easily be remade any given day at my house (although I think I have more birds than the movie had).
The birdfeeder is out in the area in front of my house where I have shrubs and plants. I have to tell you, the daily onslaught of feathered visitors does come with a cost. The seed they drop makes quite a mess in the rocks surrounding it and liberally contributes to weed growth. It is a situation that requires fairly constant attention over the spring, summer and fall.
In the winter, I get all the birds who have not had the presence of mind to leave town and a whole slew of bunnies. Then my issue with the seed takes a back seat to little piles of bunny poop everywhere. This past winter with the pod in my yard all that time I do believe I housed an entire colony of bunnies. There was so much bunny poop in my yard this past winter that with the snow it looked like chocolate chip ice cream (well…with round chocolate chips…but you get the picture). I must say though, my lawn is quite lush this year already…who knew birdseed could accomplish that?
At any rate, the birdseed makes a mess – but I love the birds and my mom loved the birds…so we remain a North American hot spot. I live in a world inhabited by a lovely collection of friends who on the whole well outweigh any burden they create by the joy their presence delivers. All is generally fine and well, unless and until they do one thing…the one thing that is verboten in our little bird paradise – poop on the little black car. That does not work for me.
Now you may think that with the volume of birds in the vicinity my little black car would be covered with bird poop from near and far, but no – not so. There is a professional courtesy that exists and for the most part my car escapes relatively unscathed. Yet, this weekend there was a major incident…not one, two or three spots of bird poop – oh no, four big spots of bird poop (heaven knows it must have come from an eagle to see the size of it).
Well, this just will not do (or doo if you were looking for the pun). I don’t drive with bird poop on my car – that is not the image I choose to put forth to the world. I had to go to the car wash toot sweet today to reclaim my bird poop free car image that I am so attached to.
Hello birds! So you know, even the cheap gas station car wash with a fill-up is $7. If I have to start paying to get my car regularly washed because it has been inappropriately used as a latrine I am going to have a whole lot less money for bird seed. Can you see where this trickle down effect will lead??? You can make a mess with the seed in the rocks and your bunny friends can populate my snow with a thousand tiny pellets, but the car is off limits. My love knows bounds and a car that looks like a domino is the outer perimeter.
So live and let live…and poop elsewhere…otherwise this tourist attraction my have to close down for the summer. Then what will you do? You’ll have to go down the street to the house with that big cat that sits outside just waiting for the next unsuspecting bird that lands in his yard…goodness gracious he still has a feather sticking out of his mouth. Just sayin’ – think twice my feathered friends – think twice.
Day six hundred and seventy-nine of the new forty – obla di obla da