Spring Has Returned

Even before reading M. Bear's comment last night to my most recent post, it had occurred to me that maybe throwing up something a little more edifying than hematomas and thoracic fractures was in order. In light of which sentiment, I'd thought I'd have a go at the damned birds. They are figuratively everywhere. Currently nesting in our firewood (over)stocked backyard are Robins, Titmice, Cardinals, Cowbirds, Carolina Wrens, and Grey Squirrels. I know, squirrels aren't "technically" "birds" because they can't "fly", don't "lay" "eggs", and are "warm" blooded, whatever that means. But they exhibit the following birdlike manifestations: They build nests; They make birdlike noises from tree branches; They partake of the contents of my "bird" feeder; They are eaten by "raptors" (latin for "bird eater") (look it up) like the Cooper's Hawk, who leave nothing but an inside out squirrel skin draped over a branch and chalky tasting white splotches over the ground below).
I appreciate Nature as much the next guy. Usually moreso. I've had a free-range pet Araneus Spider living in my kitchen which I fed grasshoppers and whatknot. I've lived with fauna, flora and fungus of nearly every Order, Phylum, Class, Make and Model. I've trod un(der)mapped wastelands, turned over stones, rocks, pebbles and boulders looking for snakes, centipedes, scorpions, spiders, and squirrels. I've slept under the stars, over the rainbow, out in the woods and up in the trees. I appreciate Nature. I love me a nice Dawn Chorus. A couple Springs ago we had a Mockingbird outside our bedroom window who would give throat every morning at 6:15 to his full repetoire: wren, robin, chickadee, crow, squirrel, cardinal, rooster, mourning dove, police siren, et cetera. Loved it. This year, we got us a Carolina Wren on Chrystal Meth. For such a small bird, it packs a lotta volume. And this little bugger thinks the Dawn Chorus should commence at 3:30. Which wakes me up just in time for the 3:50 Freight Train from St Louis to Gdansk for all I care. Which occasionally comes as sweet relief from the sound of Seta cleaning her feet in my ear at 45 minute intervals all night (with a sound like sucking the last little bit of milkshake out of your parfait glass) while she's sleeping on my "broken" rib.
Wait. This was supposed to be "edifying". Muscle relaxers, caffeine, and sleep deprivation are a formidable cocktail. I love me some Nature, though. The foregoing notwithstanding.