Island Packet — Every day, a tiny yellow bird tries to break into my house.
For the past two weeks — although I assume it was happening long before — this festive little stalker has been trying to gain entrance, every morning, every afternoon, every night. He is relentless. And adorable! And precious. And psychotic! I’ve seen him (I assume it’s a him, because only guys would be dumb enough to do this repeatedly) trying to shatter his way in through the glass, “Die Hard”-style. I’ve watched him fling himself against the front door (which didn’t work), the sliding glass door (also didn’t work) and the other sliding glass door (which is troubling, because that means he’s done some research into our multiple entrances). I’ve watched him stand outside the front door. Waiting. Watching. Always watching.
Naturally, as is often the case when confronted by a 9-ounce creature who communicates via musical whistling, I’m terrified. Why does this bird want in so badly? Did he used to live here? Does he think I’m his mommy? Does he think I am in possession of delicious breadcrumbs? Do birds even eat breadcrumbs? These are the questions I am currently wrestling with, although if I ever open the door I will apparently be wrestling with a bird. If I win, though, I’ll be sure to (puts on sunglasses) tweet about it.