Nature’s Trespasser

Urban birds nest isolated on white.Nature has a way of mocking me.

In my defense, cialis generic it’s a really busy time of year for me. I won’t bore you with the details – I don’t dare get started – but to get to the point, I lose track of time every spring. You’d think the change of seasons would be my wakeup call: turning off my furnace, kicking the blanket off my bed and not recovering it from the floor, that sort of thing. But no, I simply don’t pay attention to much around the house, especially outside. Most of the flowers haven’t popped up yet to prompt me to gaze out my window and the lawn isn’t ready to turn from deathly brown to promising shades of green.

So it isn’t that surprising my faux Christmas bushes that I tend to leave up during the remainder of winter are still bordering my front door.  There in lies the rub. I have a wren that has adopted one, like an unwanted tenant who found an abandoned apartment complex and put down roots, in this case straw, sticks, something that makes me gag if I look too close and a year’s worth of dust bunnies collected from garbage cans around the neighborhood. The bird spooks when someone comes to the door and it flutters past them in a panic. Not a bad thing where solicitors are concerned, but not so great when entertaining anxious friends not currently on their meds.

I can’t remove the bushes without adding the little thing to the real estate challenged. Are all the best nesting spots taken by now? If I put one of the bushes away and leave the newly decorated apartment complex there, my front door will be skewed and my OCD will kick in. The way I see it, my only choice is to quietly suffer the humiliation until the inevitable eggs hatch, the babies stop their incessant chirps and pass flight school at which point mom will hopefully decide she wants to move to Florida to watch the buff seagulls strut their stuff on the beach.

I should put a sign on the bushes next year, “Trespassers will be shot.” Maybe that will also take care of the solicitors. Like that’s going to happen. I won’t remember when the time comes.

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