We are under attack!
Incoming! You think I'm joking. I believe that my husband and I have created a rogue bird. Specifically, a rogue red-winged black bird.
The weekend before last, Prince Charming and I were quietly sleeping when we began to hear bonks.
Bonk.
Bonk.
Bonk, slap, bonk.
When we investigated, we determined that a bird was perpetually running into the windows of the house. He was methodical too, testing first one window for weakness before moving on to the next in line.
Now, the bird could be scared off, but only for 30 minutes or so. It has now been 9 days of bombardment and the bird shows no signs of fatigue. He's not giving up! A smarter animal might have at least moved to the front of the house to test those windows, but not the bird I have come to call "Oscar". No. I am convinced that Oscar is retarded. I think he is a thrill-seeking bird. I think he's trying to get us good and pissed so that we will chase him with a BB gun. I think he covets the hunt.
The fat life, living high on the hog at Phoenix's bird feeder, has bored him. Providing food is no longer enough for this lazy bugger, now we must needs entertain him too! I swear! I am so close to taking a page from Drum's book - you know, the dad from Steel Magnolias.
That bird started in this morning at 4:47 am. He's psycho! He has ascertained that there is no point of entry. Now he's just doing it to piss me off.
That bird is toast, y'all.
