Naughty stuff going down in our maple tree. Birdie porn on a branch. Seems there is one particular limb that is a favorite swingers spot for swallows. IN MY FRONT YARD!
How did this particular branch become the local House of Ill Repute? Is there an underground club where such things are chirped about? Is it a privately owned branch with a hired marketing firm? I mean, there must be a thousand limbs on that big tree--why pick on just one?
You are probably thinking that I am supporting the horrid behavior by watching and writing about it. But, sheesh, every time I finish a paragraph and glance out the window, I have a bird's eye view of the continuous party. What once was a healthy habit of not over-gazing at my computer screen has turned into sick, stalker, depraved writing.
It is said that writers need to have many life experiences to yank out topics to write about. I don't know how I am going to use these gross carrying-ons of the local bird gangs. But someday, somewhere, I will use this knowledge. I am certain that Mother Nature did not impose upon my vantage point with out future reason. I have trust in the Universe.
And what about those birds?
Those misguided youths are flagrantly displaying public acts of egg fertilization. I hope they understand the gravity of what they are pursuing for a moment of birdie bliss. Because I can foresee the arduous task of nest building taking over their time. Saturday nights spent chirping on telephone wires will now be taken over by the home building process.
Are these rebellious couples ready to be parents? Do they have what it takes to fish out worms from the soil at all hours of the day? Mush bugs in their mouth for their starving babies? Feed the ever-hungry infants that want nothing but food, food, food all day long.
What about teaching their children to fly? Do those instant-gratifying, feathered beings have the guts to kick their offspring out of the nest in a couple of months? This is not pansy, scaredy cat stuff we're talking about here, folks. Imagine teaching your children to walk by tossing them into oncoming New York traffic, hoping they make it across the street.
Of great concern is our virgin puppy, Daisy. What if she sees those punks mating out the window? What impression will it make upon her innocent, childish mind? We have gone out of our way to keep her unspoiled from the shadow side of wild life. All of our protection could be for nothing if she catches on to what is happening IN HER VERY FRONT YARD! A life of ruin and turmoil will surely follow after her mind is split open by bird coupling.
What is a tree owner to do in these times of trouble?
If you have any ideas as to how to handle my predicament, please, please, let me know.
Until then, I will continue on as the proper author that I am.
Owner of a porn branch