I can see why Alfred Hitchcock made a horror film about birds; they are terrifying.
A couple of weeks ago I look outside and see this on our deck:
No, we did not invite friends over for a barbecue. It's December and we don't have a grill. It's a bone of some kind, picked clean, that some one, or some thing left on our deck. We think it's a bird. What kind bird would eat an animal with a bone that big? I don't know if you can tell but it's like the size of a drumstick, maybe even a bit bigger. Do we have a condor flying around here or something?
I did not know it at the time but now I realize that it was a message. Clearly there is a gang of malicious birds who rule our neighborhood and this was their way of warning me not to mess with them. I must have done something to piss them off because there has been a frequent assault of bird poop on my car. It's gross, so gross. There was a time when I didn't drive my car for two days and when I saw it, for a second, I was convinced that some one was playing a mean prank on me because it looked like someone went to town with a paint ball gun.
I must find way to find peace with the birds, I don't want to keep paying for a car wash. As this documentary proves, birds will mess with your car if you piss them off:
Aren't they supposed to down south or something? Why didn't they migrate? Stupid birds!