The Birds

Maybe it's because Alfred Hitchcock and I share the same birthday.....
Thursday:
Dylan requested hamburgers on the grill for dinner.
I went out on the deck to, oh I don't know, just look
at the deck I suppose.
Well, the railings were coverd with bird poop.
....and I mean covered.
I thought it was so odd, because it had rained all week.
Wouldn't all the poop get washed away?
Unless.....it all showed up....TODAY.
Hmmmmm.......
Then I noticed that the grill had some poop on the it too and as I'm looking....
....a BIRD FREAKIN' FLEW OUT OF THE GRILL!
(the grill has a hole on each side where the lid and base attach)
So I tapped the thing, just in case there were more, lifted the lid and...there.... in my grill.....
was the beginnings of a nest....... IN MY GRILL!
It was actually quite pretty, little purple flowers, leaves twigs...but I digress.
I. Was. Grossed. Out.
As I'm standing there one of the squatters comes flying over. I know it was one of them because it
gave me an evil, "Im going to peck your eyes out" look.
I told it to get lost.
As I waited for Paul to get home, I sat and watched the squatters....... and they watched me.
They kept flying over, their beaks holding nesting materials.
I'd yell, they'd squawk.
Once I meowed.
They laughed.
There were 4 of them, I guess it was going to be a 2 family grill.
They kept coming by, circling, then would go hang out in a dead tree. All the while, calculating......
So Paul comes home, cleans out the grill and sets the flame for low so the creatures will stay away and frankly,
because I was getting a little creeped out.
I really didn't want to play Tippi Hedren.
They STILL kept flying over, squawking at the heat...and at us.
As dusk fell, we felt we were finally safe and we cooked the burgers. Dylan swore he tasted feathers, but we assured him that the culprits had indeed escaped.
Well, early the next morning after Paul started the coffee, he went to check the grill and as he opened it..
2 FREAKIN' BIRDS FLEW OUT AT HIM!
They were at it again, more twigs and purple flowers.
They're tricky little suckers.
Paul thinks one of them is knocked up and they need a place to crash.
So again, he cleaned it out and this time he put a tarp over it.
Tarp in place.
No creepy black birds to be found.
Saturday night, grill steak. All is good.
Did Paul put the tarp back on?
No.
Sunday morning:
THEY
ARE
BACK!
GROSS!
You know, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I saw a fat, balding man walking a dog down my street the other day......