Why do birds suddenly appear every time we are near? A few days ago, Ryan noticed that a small congregation of birds is working on a nest above the door that leads to our backyard. It reminded me of another story I wrote in May 2006. I’m re-running it here for your pleasure, for my laziness, and because it still makes me laugh.
A few weeks ago, we noticed that a family of birds had started building a nest in the wreath on our front door. We thought it was kind of cute, but a bad location, especially given Christian’s cheerful but harsh version of shutting the door. Finally, we decided to relocate the wreath to the back porch, hoping the bird family would find it.
Yesterday, Ryan visited the back porch to heat up the barbeque for some steaks I bought for dinner. The nest in the wreath did seem to be a little bigger, but it was nothing compared to the GIANT BIRD CONDOMINIUM that was built inside of our barbeque with four little blue eggs inside. Luckily, Ryan opened the cover of the barbeque before lighting it up, having noticed a large twig sticking out the side vent. The story would have taken a tragic, messy turn had he not.
We’ve never really tried steak and eggs, but it didn’t seem like a good idea considering all the recent talk about the bird flu.
Ryan has decided that he will never be able to eat anything from that grill ever, ever, ever, again.
“They’ve been in there pooping and peeing and having SEX!”
I personally didn’t see any poop in there and I wasn’t aware that birds pee. I’m not entirely sure what constitutes birdie sex, though I can’t deny the fact that there are four little blue eggs in there. Apparently Ryan knows a lot more about the mating and gastro-intestinal habits of God’s winged creatures.
“We’ll clean it out, scrub the grill, and then let it cook on high heat with nothing in it. That will kill any germs that might be left over.” I said. I still remember what we paid for the grill at Sam’s Club a few years ago, and if I’m going to pay that much for a birdhouse, it had better have a swimming pool and granite countertops.
“Do whatever you want, but I am never going to eat anything from that ever again. They have been pooping and peeing and having sex!” he said, because apparently I hadn’t understood the horror of it all the first time.
“You’ve mentioned that.”
I decided not to mention all the times I’ve marinated fajitas in the toilet. The guy has got ISSUES.