I like birds – they’re pretty and sing-song-y and generally don’t get in my way – meaning, I haven’t tripped over one. Yet. There’s still plenty of life in me so there’s a reasonable probability that at some point in the future I will trip over one or two and I can only hope the birds in question don’t hold grudges and/or can’t run very fast.
Anyway, I like birds, but to be honest, I’ve never spent a good deal of time minutely examining my thoughts and feelings about them. Until this morning, that is. At 6:30am I was given the perfect opportunity to delve deeply into my opinions and emotions about birds and come up with a definite conclusion: I like birds – except Magpies. I fucking hate Magpies!
The specific Magpie who became the object of my early-morning cursing was the one sitting under our bedroom window squawking and chatting with one of the cats. It was, most likely, Teddy because he seems to have some kind of dysfunctional relationship with it that may or may not include racial slurs, name-calling and cursing. It follows Teddy around, shrieking at him, then Teddy answers it in Cat and it shrieks again and Teddy answers again. We’re quite surprised because Teddy….
isn’t the cat around here that’s famous for shouting and swearing – that honour goes to Izzie, The Queen of Mean herself.
Teddy is a sweet, chill guy who channels Joey Tribiani.
I suppose I could be wrong about the content of their conversations. Maybe it’s a weird friendship between a Low Talker and a Shouter. Maybe they are conversing over the state of the local economy and how the influence of weather patterns could disrupt the flow of goods and services to the most vulnerable in society. Maybe they are plotting and planning a coup in the Squirrel Community. Maybe that bloody bird has a miserable sibling, too. Maybe they are comparing notes and strategies for coping. Who the fuck knows and, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter.
These two-way conversations go on several times a day for such a ridiculously long time that even the neighbours are starting to notice. I’ve tried on several occasions to capture this phenomenon but that damned Magpie is as shifty as it is loud, and Teddy has the innocent act down pat.
At 6:30 this morning, I was having visions of pulling every single feather out of that gawd-damned bird until it was naked as the day it was hatched. I had a lengthy intervention with Teddy, explaining that he needs to find a friend that doesn’t drive me to the serious contemplation of murder. He listened very carefully, then went outside and found that bird again! Probably to tattle on me for racism or something. Will my car be covered in Magpie Poop now?
Under normal circumstances, I would never try to dictate who a person has as a friend because friendship comes in many different forms. Cat and bird friendships should be encouraged in the hope of interspecies peace. But a Magpie? Really? Teddy couldn’t find any other bird in the neighbourhood to befriend? One that was less offensive and less loud? A Finch? A Sparrow? How about a Hummingbird? Hummingbirds are nothing short of awesome! Nope! It had to be a damned Magpie! I would suspect passive/aggressive behavior if it were Izzie because she would totally do that, but Teddy has neither the smarts nor the personality to pull it off.
Since I apparently have little influence on Teddy’s choice of companions, I’ll just have to come up with a name for my nemesis. A little help would be greatly appreciated, people.
In the meantime, it’s my kind of luck that someone will write a children’s book about this, ending it with the sweet cat and the pretty bird living happily ever after and I’ll look like the asshole.
Where is a coyote when you desperately need one?
