As you may know, I've had my adventures with "critters" round here. (For those who missed it read here and here.) My struggle continues...
For some reason last week, BougieMom got it into her head to sweep up all the various dead leaves and insects in the garage and dump the charming combination into a box in a corner of the garage. I pointed out that since we live next to an open field in Texas, that was an invitation for "varmints" to come on in. She just laughed at me.
Fast forward to yesterday. BougieMom is off in North Carolina visiting BougieOlderBro and I have the house to myself. I decided to run up to the store at about 2:00pm. I swung open the garage door and heard a squawk, a flapping of wings and then saw some flavor of bird dive bombing me. Eeek! I slammed the door shut. Then I thought, okay really Michele? What's the worst a bird can do?
I opened the door slowly and the bird was perched atop Mom's BMW all gangstery looking at me like "who gon' check me, boo" - beady eyes all malevolent and what not. So I opened the garage thinking that the bird would have sense enough to fly away to freedom. No. He (She, who knows?) flew up to perch on some wires tacked to the ceiling of the garage.
What to do? I didn't want to leave the bird in there, looking around the creature had liberally "shared his offerings" all over the damn place. So I grabbed a broom and began swinging towards the bird on the assumption that this would prompt the thing to sense danger and flee. Hells no. The bird was clearly laughing at me and did not move an inch. So now I've taken a batter's stance and I'm about to swing for the fences when he started flying towards me. Of course I was shrieking and swinging the broom and ducking at the same time causing me to stumble into the side of my car and bang my knee.
Plus my body decided to remind me that I had surgery less than three weeks ago and all this jumping, swinging, spinning nonsense was not on the agenda yet. I got angry. And the bird finally figured out I was not playing and flew towards the back of the garage. Mr. Bird was trying to build some sort of elaborate setup in the box o' garage crapola BougieMom had stashed back there. I kicked the box in the street and swung at the bird one last time who finally flew across the yard to perch on the mailbox.
I hustled to back the car out and close the garage before it could swoop back in. Why when I was pulling back in an hour later was I scanning the sky waiting for that damn bird to come back? What can I say... I like nature from a distance.
Thoughts, comments, sympathies?