I’m at war with the birds I feed. Not all the birds. Just one sparrow and his or her mate.
The sparrow(s) want(s) to set up house—that’s a nice way of saying build a nest—in the superstructure covering our retractable awning. Several weeks ago the bird(s) favored the corner of the awning over the door to the patio. Once, twice, even three times a day I had to yank down the makings of a nest.
Gilda suggested we hang old CD discs, hoping the reflected light would deter nest building. We left the patio lights on overnight. It worked for a day or two.
One time a bird was on the construction site when I started hacking away at the nest. That chased it away for days, but not forever. He, she or they relocated to the other end of the awning. Our duel for ownership of the awning property continued for a few days until he, she or they doubled back to the other end.
So I did what most everyone does these days—I consulted the Internet for bird nest remedies. Someone suggested placing a rubber snake nearby. For $8 I bought a realistic looking serpent which I tied to the crossbar near the nesting area.
Worked like a charm. That is, until I realized the nest had relocated back to the other end of the awning. Eight dollars later, a second snake was tied to the crossbar, only this creature failed to induce the desired effect. Indeed, after giving up on the second site the bird(s) went back to the space above the door in total disregard of the rubber snake.
We are now in a stalemate. Two or three times a day they build, I take apart. Often I mutter under my breadth that you would think the bird(s) would be smart enough to learn their quest for residency behind our awning was not going to happen. I smile and say to myself, that’s what we call a “birdbrain.” Then I laugh at and to myself for thinking I can alter the procreative laws of nature.
So, you decide, who’s the birdbrain?
