Don't piss off Mama Bird.

Did I ever tell the story of how I became a liberal? Once upon a time, before West Nile Virus and termites took most of the birds and trees from our area, there was a red-tailed hawk in my tree. It was pretty stunning. They're big.

I mentioned it online, and someone made a crack that I should cook it. I responded in turn with my own crack about my neighbor who used to shoot at the ravens in our tree.

Apparently, calling the neighbor a looney did not go over well with a troll who knew how to keep his posts from being archived. I wasn't making the neighbor up, I couldn't, it's too bizarre (I think he eventually shot at something bigger than a bird, because they moved not long after). As the discussion went on, the troll called me a liberal, and I think he expected me to die of shame. I did not. And that is how I became a liberal.

Leaping ahead a few years, when the only birds left in the area are blue jays, I found myself swinging at one with a branch from my forsythia today. I believe I may have called the bird a few names the ornithologists union has not approved.

These birds are annoying my cats, you see. Never mind that the cats stare at them and do the feline equivalent of wolf whistles, these birds are capable of eye-pecking, and are threatening my cats, and so I flipped out ninja-stlye with a branch. I'd cut the branch, along with a lot of vines, in an attempt to remove the welcome mat for the blue jays.

I also very nearly severed my left thumb, but I'm used to doing shit like that. Luckily, I'd just cleaned my clippers the other day, and they're not nicked, so it was a clean slice. I can still work my mouse, as long as I keep the thumb tightly bandaged, so all is right with the world.

Still enjoying the Depeche Mode music, although if they play Devotional at 10 o'clock again, I will jump on a blue jay, take it up to space, and beat the satellite senseless with the largest branch I can find.

Don't piss off Mama Bird.