Bird Brain

Over the last month, I have come to fully realize the origin of the term "bird brain." Last year, a bird built its nest in the rafters of our front porch. All summer I battled a disgusting mess which came from this nest - sticks, dirt and poop, poop, poop were everywhere for months. It was disgusting. When the summer ended, Greg cleaned out the unused nest and we hoped that was the end of sharing our living space with this bird.

We were wrong.

About a month ago, I noticed the beginnings of a nest in the same spot as last year. I told Greg and he promptly cleaned out the nest before any eggs could be laid. Whew. Situation avoided. Thank goodness!

Well, not really. About a week later, I noticed the beginnings of another nest. Unbelievable! I told Greg and he cleaned it out yet again. Surely a bird would not build there after having its home destroyed twice. That had to be the end of it.

Nope. Sure enough, it built again. I cleaned out the twigs this time. Gross. There was dirt and dust and grime all over, but luckily no eggs yet. As the saying goes, "the third time is a charm." I was certain that the bird crisis was over.

It wasn't. Yesterday I was on the porch with the boys, and this is what I saw:

That God-forsaken bird built another freaking nest!!! What in the world is wrong with the stupid creature? From predator/prey standpoint, it seems to me that this bird is incredibly dumb to continue to build a home in a spot which has been ransacked 4 times already (if you count taking it down at the end last year)! Seriously, how good are its survival skills?

To make matters worse,the stupid bird sat by and watched me rip apart all of his hard work!

There he is again.

At this point, I'm sending up a prayer to St Francis: please don't let the dumb thing build again. I just can't take it. I hate birds. They're so dirty, and I just don't want a nest on my porch. There are perfectly good trees all around us. Help this bird find real estate options elsewhere.

While I was cleaning up the bird's fourth home building attempt and scooping up 75 piles of dog dirt in my yard (I took care of my mom's dogs while they were away last week), Andrew was creating a masterpiece in the dust on the coffee table on the porch. "Mom, it's you and Daddy!" he said. Yes, that's about how dirty I felt at that moment.