wide blue

It’s been a very quiet human-noise day: no construction, no chainsaws, lovely. And the sun shone, even better. Sadly, though, the birds have felt emboldened. Perhaps they think, what with all the eggs around, painted and chocolate, that some people in this neighbourhood are celebrating all feathered kind and wingèd ones can do no earthly wrong.

First of all, we had a woodpecker bashing his (oh, yep, definitely male) brains out against our chimney. The chimney, when drilled on, makes the whole house resonate like a drum. It’s unnaturally loud. The woodpecker (a flicker) thought that was The. Best. Thing. Eva! And just got more and more enthusiastic, an absolute frenzy of sound, like a drummer on meth. He kept going until another woodpecker in the ravine got competitive. They had a hammer-off. This unholy racket annoyed the robins, who all started yelling at each other. Robins can sound most aggrieved. And piercing. (Robins have always pissed me off: apart from anything, they look so stupid.) The robin racket irritated the jays. Let me tell you, when Steller’s Jays get going, they are loud. So loud in fact, that they woke up an owl, who hooted softly, mournfully—threateningly—until the lesser birds shut up.

And you thought being surrounded by trees was peaceful…