Hey ya’all, how’s everyone doing this fine Friday morning? It feels like I just blogged…oh wait, I did. And yet, here I am again…just like a shiny new penny. (It’s my story. I can tell it however I want…and it doesn’t have to make sense.) LOL
Okay, some of you are familiar with my stories about the animals out at my place. I have a bunch…horses, dogs, the neighbor’s cats…and now the neighbor’s bird. Yep, you read that right. My neighbor has a pet bird that seems to have adopted me as part of his flock.
The bird is a mourning dove, and his name is Little Bird. My neighbor, Dawn, rescued him as a baby and hand-raised him. He now comes when she calls him for dinner, rides around on her head, and does his best to find out what you’ve got in your house. I can’t leave the doors open, or the damn bird either walks or flies into the house.
Anyone walking around outside is fair game, too. He loves to land on your head and go for a ride…particularly if you are eleven years old and blond! My grandson loves Little Bird…I, on the other hand, am leery of allowing a bird to ride on my head. They poop!
I was washing off the screened patio the other day and in he hopped, nosing around like he owned the joint. So I gently sprayed him with the hose. Do you think he freaked out and streaked out the door like his tail was on fire? Nope. He lifted a wing so I could wash underneath it. Seriously? Cheeky bird!
I have to be careful when I get in my truck these days because LB watches my house and as soon as I step outside, here he comes. He’ll perch on the eaves of the house and coo at me, or on my head if I’m not quick enough getting into the truck. The other day, I spotted him coming my way and I hurried into the truck. Seeing that I’d restricted his ability to score a ride on my head, he landed on the top of the open door. Now I couldn’t shut the door until he left. So I started to shoo him, but he’s apparently not afraid of me—even when I’m waving my hands and pushing him backwards. I tried to warn him that he was forcing me to pinch his little toes in the door, but he ignored the warning. I finally had to catch him and carry him to an orange tree, where he sat cooing at me.
This morning, I tried to get in the truck and there he was. This time I got the door closed, so he landed on top of the truck. Do I drive off and leave him to figure out that he needs to get off? No, I can’t do it. So I back up real fast and hit the brakes, hoping to see him fly off. Nothing. So I get out of the truck and he’s gone…then I hear him cooing from the roof of the house. Time to jet before we have to repeat the process. So off I go, keeping one eye on the rearview mirror, just in case stalker Little Bird decides to come after me.
You’d think the little guy would be less stalker-ish, since he himself has a stalker. I noticed another dove chasing and dive-bombing LB. When I asked the neighbor about it, she replied, “That’s a Bully Bird.” Perfect! So I have a stalker, and my stalker has a bully stalker. Wonder if there is a bird class on how to deal with bullies. In any case, poor Little Bird is now missing half his tail feathers and flies with a list due to the lack of a proper rudder. I'm guessing SB got to LB, and now has feathers nailed to the wall of his nest--a shrine to his arch nemesis.
So…here I sit out on the farm with horses, dogs, a rat-killing duck, and a stalker dove. Situation Normal at my place…Weirdness Reigns! But I’m having that family reunion on Saturday…Aunt Millie and Uncle Elmer better stay sober or they’re gonna find themselves covered in dove poop. And this bird can really poop. He pooped on the window of my truck one day and my son accused me of raising Pterodactyls.
Well, that’s my story, birdie and bonkers, and I’m stickin’ to it. Hang on tight now, cuz’ we’re gonna go real, real fast!