If you’ve ever checked my twitter stream in the morning you will generally find strongly worded tweets directed towards Canadian Geese. They range from me demanding Canada reclaim their damn geese and send more awesome Canadian delecacies like poutine and Wunderbars to factoids like, DID YOU KNOW GEESE POOP EVERY SIX MINUTES?
With the honking and the HONK HONK and their occasional Jersey Shore reenactment with two geese on the roof (which ZOMG if you’ve never been woken up to geese slapping their feet and honking on the roof RIGHT. ABOVE. your head I can tell you that being woken up to a pile drive from a five year old is welcome respite) and two geese on the ground right outside my open bedroom window honking at each other for no apparent reason other than make me stabby.
HONK! slap slap slap HONK! on and on until one finally gives up and flies away.
Then there’s my backyard.
Look, birds singing is all charming and stuff. I even spent money on a machine that simulated the sounds of birds twittering in the breeze. But to have a real live show every morning beginning around five when it isn’t even light out? Makes me all crazy eyed with an itchy trigger finger.
Even the geese have the common decency to shut it until it’s light out.
They have all these songs! and the tweets! and the CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP! Each brand of bird trying to claim its individuality with it’s sweet blasted song. It’s nine o’clock at night and they still haven’t stopped. People always say they wish they had the stamina and energy of Addie, please. Give me the stamina and energy of that woodpecker back there and I’d have cancer cured and all your laundry done before I even had my morning pee.
To make matters worse (or better if you’re one of those ‘I love baby birds’ type) there’s all these baby birds around. There’s a huge group of them right above the light fixture in my closet, which is alternately cute and alarming. I also have a hard time keeping the cynicism to myself when I see the mom bird trying to fly all stealth, doing a total Jason Bourne look see, before heading under the eave of my house. I KNOW YOU’RE THERE BIRD.
After a really bad windstorm last week Cody found a bird in our yard who had surely been blown right into the side of our house, he said the thing looked shocked, pissed and dead all at the same time.
What a crummy way to go.
We were afraid it was the mom bird to the attic family chirp, but don’t worry, IT WASN’T.
Then there’s the baby geese/ducks that cross the road. I never noticed geese meandering across the road before, maybe it’s because they knew they didn’t have a chance against the bumper of my Chrysler. But now that they’re parents they parade their babies across four lane roads knowing that any decent human being wouldn’t mow them down.
Cody swears a dad goose bringing up the rear of his brood this afternoon turned and flipped him off for not coming to a complete stop.
Those baby geese are going to grow up and become the gigantic geese that wake me from a dead sleep with their honk honking and slap slapping of their big goofy feet on my roof. And yet, aww, they’re so widdle and cuuuute.
I really need to rethink my decent human being status.
Canada, take your geese back. Please.
Also? The one bird I can never manage to get mad at? Cardinals.
Cardinals are awesome.
Take note GEESE.