Paranoid

I love spring.



Things turning green again.






The daffodils.




The tulips.




Birds singing.




And here is where the story begins.  This is a much abbreviated version  because honestly you don't have enough time to hear the whole thing and I don't have enough time to tell it all.   


I love hearing birds sing, as long as it is not barn swallows.  We have an ongoing feud with barn swallows.  They nested by our front door on a small ledge under the soffet for 3 years.  Michael wanted to take down the nest right way.  Silly me said, "Ohhh, let the birdies stay!"  This was one of those defining moments I look back on and can only wonder "What was I thinking???"

  During those 3 years they dive bombed our landscaping crew and squawked anytime anyone approached "their" area or came to our front door.  But the straw that broke the camel's back was when I was coming back from a walk one afternoon, just minding my own business.  I saw something coming at me -  flying straight at me down the sidewalk and realized it was a bird. In that brief period of time when I realized what it was, I could only wonder what it was  doing. It lifted up just a millisecond before hitting my forehead.  I could feel the breeze from its wings on my face!


It was like proclaiming war.  


  I stomped home ...muttering the whole way about  how ungrateful they were to do that when I, yes I, had talked Michael into letting them stay and then allowed them to return to nest for 3 years, yes 3 years, sometimes twice a year!   And I angrily declared they were GONE!





So Michael took the nest down once the babies had learned to fly and were gone.  I felt betrayed and unappreciated and muttered the whole time I was filling that ledge in with rock.  



"Crazy birds, I stand up for you and give you a home for 3 years, and that was the appreciation I get???    (mumble mumble)




So they got even and lived in our furnace intake pipe. 




I discovered this one day while doing yard work.  I heard a chirping coming from the intake pipe.  The next night we were rescuing a baby bird from our window well right under the pipe. Michael had crawled down the ladder to rescue it.  And as he was doing this I was dive bombed... AGAIN.  I said to Michael with a sudden sense of irritation, "Is that a barn swallow?"  Sure enough, it was a baby swallow.   And again when trying to be helpful and rescue their baby, they were unappreciative once more. 




So two years and $300 later in furnace repairs we eliminated their ability to set up home there.




Yes, I love the signs of spring and I love hearing birds first thing in the morning.



But if I hear a bird in the front of the house  I go into super sleuth mode.  I quietly creep to the front door, look through the little eye piece to see if I can see barn swallows flying around the front door, and listen to determine if the sound is coming from right by the door.. or farther out in the yard.



I admit.  I am paranoid.



If I never see one of those forked tails again it is fine with me.



  It seems the barn swallows  have gone on to torture other people the last few years and they haven't attempted to return.



But  to be  honest... I just don't trust 'em.