Sometimes, Mother Nature Bites

This is the disclaimer: I love nature. Hell, I'm surrounded by it. On good days, I feel lucky to live in a place where the racket that the birds make is louder than the traffic from the highway.

On bad days, its "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," because, well, the truth is, nature can be a little overwhelming at times. It scratches around in your basement, nibbles on your doorway (see Toad Lake Blotter), and dangles cobwebs in your corners. In the summertime, I feel like we have to fight just to keep our little corner of the property. Given one unrestrained summer, the vegetation would gladly take over and creep up and over the house, while the bunnies frolicked in our sunroom and the mice claimed our countertops. This makes the contrast even more great in the wintertime, when the fauna and flora retreat, and the elements do their best to batter us into submission (or at least severe depression).

Yeah, so, maybe I'm feeling bitter right now. I'm a city kid, but I spent summers in Wisconsin, in a rowboat chasing turtles, catching frogs, and being fascinated by the vivid molds and funguses that grew in the channel near my grandma's house. So you could say I've had a little of both worlds. And I know that nature is a delicate balance, and takes care of itself, and does what it needs to do.

But my birdies are dead, and right now, Mother Nature, I'd stay out of my way if I were you. There were six of them, all fuzzy with oversized yellow plastic-looking beaks, in the nest outside my window. I didn't open that curtain for a month, so as to avoid scaring the parental birdies away. We snuck through that door so as not to disturb, and used the other door whenever possible. But while I was gone, all the baby birdies died (this sounds like a twisted Ween song, I have to admit). And that happens, and its sad, and I cried. But the worst part is, we think the momma killed them. It's possible, I guess, that another bird swooped in and did their thing, but normally, don't other birds steal eggs and stuff? This was just birdie extermination. There were three dead in the nest, and the others had been dropped out of the nest onto the concrete steps. The parental birdies are still around. I see them hovering on the power line, on the handle of the rake. I don't think they use the nest anymore though.

Nature ain't for sissies, that's for sure. Part of me longs to head to the city, where people prey on other people, but at least you don't wake up on the mornings and find dead birdies on your stoop. Winos, maybe, but not birdies.