Right now there's a big forest fire burning up stuff in the counties over by the beach, or down east as some people like to say. Since the wind shifted and is coming in off the ocean, all that lovely smoke has wafted this way. I'm not sure if it was the smoke or the air blowing in off the water that cooled things down to 85, but either way, I'm happy. Plus I kind of like the woodsmoke smell; it reminds me of campfires and that wood stove we had when I was a kid. The haze was kind of gross, though. To think I spent all afternoon swimming with Henry in that. Hopefully we didn't suck in too many carcinogens. The plus side to the haze is that even though I forgot sunblock, I didn't get sunburned.
Ben went directly to his grandparents' place right after work, changed into his bathing suit and commenced to washing his car. This was a rare event indeed. The last time Ben's car got washed was probably... Ok, I forgot, it's been so long. And I was the one who washed it. When Ben was finished he was rinsing the washcloth he'd used and I noticed that the blackish gray washcloth was slowly turning pink. Ah, filth. One more reason why I want to chop down that tree over the driveway.
While Ben was washing the car I was wandering aimlessly as I am wont to do (I love saying "as I am wont to do." Sounds like I know what the heck I'm talking about.) and happened to notice a bird's nest built into an old tennis shoe perched upon a ladder which was leaning against the carport wall.
"Oh, look," I said. "There's a bird nest in this shoe."
Henry came up to see and I went in for a closer look. I figured it was an old nest, as there's no telling how long those shoes have been sitting on that ladder, and for what purpose I have no idea. I had to stand on tiptoe to see and right as I was just about to see over the rim of the nest, a bird flew out of it right into my face, missing me by inches. I'm not sure if it was me or the bird, but somehow the shoe fell off the ladder. I mean, it was a tennis shoe sitting on a ladder; it's not like it was nailed in place. At any rate, two little eggs got broken in the process. I put the shoe back in place thinking that if the bird came back it could probably lay some more eggs.
When Pee-Paw (Ben's grandpa) got home with the groceries Henry told him that mommy had killed the baby bird.
I didn't feel so bad after he told me that the bird had startled him before, as well.
I think this officially makes me a bird murderer. The eggs. The two birds smacking into my death-window. Those two birds I had to scrape off the grill of my car with a rolled-up newspaper.
Maybe I should put some more bird seed in the feeder or something.
3 comments:
Well, maybe you will get out the slammer for good behavior. That is so sad. But I have to say, what in the heck was the bird thinking laying eggs in an old tennis shoe?
Poor babies.
hi sarah, i am glad i found your blog. this way i can keep up on you. hope things a well for you. naomi aka sister gotze
Sometimes when I kill bugs, my husbands says I'll have to meet them in the resurrection. But I don't know about that.
I'll still be your friend even if birds die near you. :)
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