Yes, I have been known to be attacked by the random bird now and again. A pheasant here, a turkey there. Sometimes a stray robin, or stalked by an angry Oriole. But last night I realized I would much rather face one Emu than say a whole flock of barn swallows. Can you guess which was in my neighborhood last night? Either way, I am back to Crazy Lady in the neighborhood.
Let's start with the idea that it may have been a conspiracy and that small woodland creatures do talk to each other and that Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh and Watership Down did happen.
What I am saying is I found a mouse nest in my garage. It was inside a locker, in a pair of the Ogre's size 15 boots. Apparently the scent of zombie brains attract mice, who knew.
So I have spent the last 2 days wearing yellow gloves, (plus clothing), carrying a garbage bag, spraying bleach on everything, and in general muttering under my breath and cleaning. The neighbors are elated. I have been asking for garage oranizational tips, giving out plywood for home improvment projects, and borrowing specialized garage floor mopping chemicals. I didn't even know special mopping stuff existedfor garage floors, because I have never mopped a garage floor before, and I do recall laughing about, uh heh, people mopping their garage, but yeah, it had to be done, mice are foul. Which brings us to the birds, which I regret to say was the flock and not the Emu.
While sitting in the drive way in despair over the fact that one half of my garage was now clean and the other half was now full of crap, not including any cars, but stuff that just needed to be organized, I noted a bird in my yard. Which is fine. I like birds, eating bugs, doing there thing, leaving me alone. But then there were like, two, then like six, then I started to freak out because they were swarming. Like evil. Like Hitchcock. Just over my yard. It was like the mice left the garage, sold their souls to the satan birds. I got out of the driveway and made the Ogre get out of the air conditioned house (energy waster) and help me.
Even the neighbor kids were like, "what is up with the birds." The Ogre had to clean up all the Pigs bikes, bring in all the garage organizing stuff I was working on, roll up my car windows, and give me a baseball bat while I stood in the garage on the verge of tears shouting about how unnatural and unfair and weird it was that "1 million wings of evil descended upon our house to peck my eyes out."
The Ogre, with his superior math skills, informed me that 1 million wings of evil would only be half a million birds and I could probably get most of them with my mighty tball bat.
I tried to photo them, and discovered that evil hell birds do not hold still for photos. So my attack cannot be. I could interview the neighbors, but it would be really embarrassing for me. I think it would go a bit like this...
Could you tell me a bit about the hell birds you witnessed terrorizing me last night?
Yes, it was strange that they were targeting your house with tiny pitchforks, but we just laughed our asses off. You normally are evil right?
The Ogre laughs at me because there is a small abandoned building near our neighborhood (that doesn't sound trashy) that I think is floor to ceiling full of bats, like no room to move full of bats, like every square inch filled with wiggley, squirming bats. Did I mention along with Zombies, Ogres hate bats. I may find a rubber bat and set it up in the shower stall. Hell, I may do a little B&E and do that to the whole neighborhood. Heeheehee