Angry bird

For an urban neighborhood, we have a wealth of trees. I've mentioned the squirrel-favored, massive chestnut tree out front a couple of times. The neighbor to the north has a spreading tree (I'm no arborist; don't ask me what it is) in the back yard that songbirds seem to like as a bird condo; they are the group that signals the pre-dawn with a chorus of tweets. Somewhere in that mix is a cardinal family. The sparrows appear to like the not-elm (see previous comment) tree near where I park my car, based on the evidence they leave.

But one particular avian family has built a nest in an architectural crack in either the hundred year old house next door, or our almost equally old manse. And those birds are angry.

Who knows what they are squabbling about - dad stepping out with the chick with the cute tail feathers while mom is stuck at home minding the nest, the kids loafing around home, refusing to fly on their own (why should they, when their parents bring them everything they need?), complaints that their nest is too small or too drafty.

They argue all.the.time. Their home is somewhere just outside my kitchen windows; every time  I'm in the office/sewing room, I hear them going at it.

The cheeps and squawks from those familial arguments are nothing compared to the hullabaloo that breaks out whenever humans dare enter their comfort zone. Walking out the back door sets off a frenzy of scolding, cackling and bird-cussing that is almost deafening in its intensity. It almost makes one loathe to take out the garbage, for fear of the hostilities escalating from verbal harassment to the physical.

The good news is that the mating and breeding season is mostly over; one hopes this particular family will move to the suburbs once the kids fly the nest.