I'm sort of known for saying and doing the wrong things. Most times, I don't even know when I've done so. Just happens.... like the sun rises in the morning and farts happen after beans.... both can be beautiful things.
Yet, farts are often better. The sun always rises but the sky may be cloudy or you might live in Alaska and not see it for awhile. Fatrs, however, are always noticed, despite the weather. In fact, on a humid day, a fart will often make itself known more quickly.
On that note, I turn to crows. Black, feathered, claw-toed bastards and bastettes that seem to perch just outside my window each and every morning. Worse than roosters, these cawing, yawing, looking-for-love birds of no relevance wake me up every morning.
Of course, maybe it's partly my fault. I sleep with my windows open now that the weather is turning cooler, much like my demeanor. And, just outside my windows are flower pots that held poppies before the bastard black birds picked away all of he seeds.
So, at nearly six in the morning, each morning, after a long night of work and several hours of trying to fall asleep, I hear, "Caw, Caw, Caw"....... three requests for something, who knows what, just outside my window. And, for some reason I can't yet grasp, it's the only fuckin' animal sound in nature that my dog will not bark towards. My god, Shizzle will bark if he hears a gnat fart but not a big, black cawing bird. So, I have to get up, go to the window and yell at the damn birds.
Here's what I've learned.... yelling at crows only encourages them. If you yell at a '3-cawing' male, four '5-cawing' females show up. I don't know what they'e saying to each other but their vocabulary is quite limited and highly annoying. Much like listening to the Microsoft help line.
I killed a bird once, when I was a kid, with a BB gun. I swore I'd never kill another animal again. Despite my anally-challenged, highly-abnormal Shit-Zoo, I've stuck to my guns with my swearing.
But, these crows, these 'Spy vs. Spy' loudmouthed, cock-wannabees... they're making me rethink a trip to the sporting goods store for a shotgun purchase.
I'm thinking crow must taste at least a little like chicken.
for those late sleepless nights, or early mornings after your crowlarm goes off.
Peace my friend!