For the last month or so, some bird has been squawking up a storm in the tree by our window. This would be fine if it was during the day, but it's every morning at 6am, when we still have about 2 hours of sleep left. Now, I'm pretty sure it's affecting my sleep because I'm drinking more coffee and generally feeling miserable throughout the day.
I have a bad history with birds. This goes back about 12 years, when I went on a trip with my in-laws to Ireland. We were somewhere in County Arklow, taking a walk through a gorgeous nature preserve when we stopped to rest on some benches by a babbling brook. I sat back, relaxed, breathed in the fresh air when all of a sudden something cold and wet plopped into my hand.
I looked down -- a fresh, white gob of bird shit.
Naturally, I did exactly what you'd expect. I jumped to my feet, swore like a sailor, and ran to the stream to wash off my hand. Yes, a bird flew over head and decided I was dump-worthy. There were no trees or power lines of any sort -- just the wide, open sky. I just so happened to be sitting in within shitting distance.
All affection I had for birds flew (pardon the pun) right out the window. No amount of my in-laws assurances of, "It's good luck! Be happy!" could not assuage my hatred for them ever since.
Now we come to this stupid bird outside the bedroom window. I'm 95% sure it's a robin based on it's very loud, obnoxious call. I've decided to make a scarecrow out of an old broom and shirt, set it on the patio, and hope it doesn't come back (or get wise to the fact that Mr. Scarecrow has no sentience).
Stupid birds. Never thought I was a Disney princess anyway.