BBs and Arrows

I'm not positive but I think a deranged red-winged blackbird has taken up residence in the tree outside my bedroom window. I also think it follows me to my momMA's house. It takes great delight in waking me up at 5:30 EVERY. SINGLE. MORNING. with its raucous, repetitive call. 

I love listening to the birds in the morning. I love walking the boardwalk and watching the red-winged blackbirds flit from cattail to cattail. I love fishing on my lake, taking the boat into Shoe-pac Bay where the weeds and marsh surround us. The sun glints off the water, small birds call (hidden from view), and the red-winged blackbird balances on tall blades of grass. It is peace and nature and life.

I DO. NOT. LOVE. the red-winged blackbird that lives outside my window. NOT. AT. ALL. It lacks the happy trill before the caw. It lacks the lilt in the call. It lacks the soprano chirp. It is a song on crack. A repetitive song on crack. An every-five-seconds song on crack. For two straight hours. Did I already mention EVERY. SINGLE. MORNING?

This is me today (head covered, trying to block out the sound), moments before throwing off the covers, jumping up semi-clothed, and screaming out my window, "SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!!!!!!!" at 6:15 a.m. Yeah, I'm sure the neighbors loved that. Probably thought some domestic dispute was taking place up on the hill.

On a brighter note...it's bright outside today. Absolutely beautiful. Of course, I don't get to enjoy it because today is my long day at school BUT it is supposed to be like this all week so I have that to look forward to. I get my momMA back tomorrow. I don't like sharing. We have company this week from NYC. I have ratatouille for lunch. And ice chips. If I can just convince that durn bird to relocate, all would be well. If not, it better start cawing with one eye open. I am my mother's daughter. All it takes is one well-aimed shot.

P.S.  Annie Oakley is my other mother.