Bird Brained

The Next Chapter in Joys of Foothill Living....

You know about our kitty, Trixie; the 140-ish pound tawny colored mountain lion. You've read about the dogs and the Deer Treat they found. You've heard of the Eau du Skunk the dogs have worn home from being "out on the hill". Now comes the Thunking of the Bird.

Sitting watching TV yesterday afternoon--windows open, fresh air streaming into the house (yes, at the beginning of February)--I see a brown streak, well, streaking through the air. Coming at the house. It disappears from my field of vision and I hear a loud THUNK! from the bedroom. Karl asked, "What was that? A bird?" Yep. A bird.

I git up and go out to make sure the bird is all right. I see nothing from the porch. So I creep down the stairs toward the bedroom windows. Expecting to see a bird flopping around, dazed, on the ground. Nothing. No movement.

As I creep closer to the window, I see a bird, feet up lying in the dirt. Deader'n a doornail. "This is an Ex-Bird!" And I start to giggle. Yep, despite the tragic and sudden unexpected death of a living, breathing, flying thing, I'm giggling. Something about a bird smacking itself into a window and killing itself has struck me funny.... Poor bird.

We take the bird out to the edge of the hill and, uh, recycle it. (Ok, we toss it down the hill so it can become food for something else and not stink up our garbage can.)

And still today I'm tittering about the damn stupid bird which brained itself on the bedroom window.... Poor stupid bird....