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Lovebirds
Jeff Dorris
I like birds.
I like watching them at the backyard bird feeder.
I enjoy seeing them play in the birdbath.
I’m fascinated with hummingbirds.
I like birds.
What I don’t like is my wife’s obsession with them.
Especially mama birds.
A bird began to build a nest on our porch, above our front door.
I should have took care of this in the early stages.
However, my wife was intrigued with the process and I allowed the bird to continue.
Little did I know what trouble would ensue.
Once the bird settled into the nest and laid her eggs, the use of the porch and the front door ceased.
It became a no access zone. A restricted area.
No one, and I mean no one, could use that area.
My porch had become a maternity ward.
I’ve had to inform friends and family members to enter our home through the garage door.
God help those who forget.
My wife is extremely protective of this bird as well.
It shouldn’t surprise me. After all this is a woman who last year dove into our pool to save a bird that had flown kamikaze style into the water. She tried to no avail to save the little winged creature and mourned the loss like it was a cherished family member.
The mama bird who will have her blessed event on our porch is a purple finch, I’m told.
Swallows attacked the nest this past week and my wife was off the couch and outside so quickly I thought the house was on fire.
I didn’t realize until I ran past her that she was coming to the aid of mama bird.
The bird doesn’t mind my wife so much but dive bombs me whenever I stray too close.
My wife tells me to cut across the center of the driveway.
I’m literally henpecked.
I like birds.
I really do.
I just wish I was a little higher up on the “pecking order” in my own home.
See you out there.