I was sitting on our patio a few minutes ago relaxing after a failed attempt to organize my garage. (It's a long story and I won't bore you with the details.) Overhead I heard a very strident bird calling, so eventually I looked up. There in the ash tree above my head was this bird, attacking a squirrel's nest that's been sitting there since before we bought the place.
Vengeance on the squirrels, I thought. Good deal.
But there were no squirrels in the nest. They're probably down in my hastas, plotting ways to take over the bird feeders Julie put up yesterday. The bird went bonkers on the squirrel nest, tearing out old leaves and flinging them everywhere, mostly on me.
I've been watching this bird for about a half hour. My yard, my patio, my lap and my laptop are getting littered with old leaves and debris.
For all I know this bird is renovating in a big time way. Could be she has major plans to put in a new bay window and some living room furniture. Or maybe the current nest is not up to code and needs major work. At any rate, what seems to her a sensible spring cleaning project looks to me like littering. Funny how a change of perspective makes your actions look different.
Where are the squirrels, you wonder? They're over in the other side of the tree, where they've apparently abandoned their nest for the moment for a more romantic interlude. Wonder what they'll think when they find out what the bird has done to the old place.