Les oiseaux furieux

Cat Daddy and I have been struggling to sleep since returning from holiday. This is partly down to our post-holiday body clock stuffage, but also because of the Angry Birds, a flock of attractive but maddening bright green parakeets who have nested in the park across the road. Our neighbours hate them, too, and, if we are to hope for any sleep at all, we have no choice but to either keep the windows closed in the heat or to do Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who will be the one to get up and shut the windows once the racket starts at dawn. 

Cocoa the babysit cat is doing his utmost to keep their population down – and has had some success – but he has a way to go before he makes a significant difference. Not that we actually want to see them all killed but, after several consecutive nights of no sleep, we can’t help but cheer on Cocoa just a little bit. 

Sometimes a squawky magpie or two also join in, resulting in a cacophonous chorus of “Screech-screech-screech-screech-screech-screech-screech-screech-cawwwwww-cawwwwww!” It’s quite the most dreadful thing imaginable. 

Not long ago I was forced to get up upon hearing the hellish alarm call, because just lying there would have made me more annoyed. I looked out at The Back and saw about a dozen or so parakeets perched on the telephone wires screeching at something below them. And now I know what has been making the Angry Birds so angry. Most of them flew away when I went outside, but I managed to catch one bird with the object of its enragement:

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Oui, Mesdames et Messieurs: what’s making them so cross is a little black sod, pitter-pattering about the garden, stopping occasionally to look up at them and meow back. As I watched, open-mouthed with shock, I observed that the meowing only made the Angry Birds’ screeching worse, which in turn made the meowing worse, and so on, just as it does with Oscar the dog’s barking. Oh. Mon. Dieu.

I have no idea whether the Angry Birds are screeching to alert their comrades of the potential predator danger, or whether they are just shouting insults and swear words (which, frankly, is much more likely). Whatever the reason, we apologise unreservedly to the neighbours who follow Le Blog and, erm, might just keep quiet about this when we bump into the neighbours who don’t. 

10 thoughts on “Les oiseaux furieux

  1. We have Clark’s Nutcrakers who screech, it’s horrible, but it doesn’t last long, just when the piñon cones open up so they can get at the pine nuts. I’m tempted to enable drastic measures. Sorry you have to endure. Are earplugs out of the question?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I can’t sleep with earplugs. If they don’t fall out, they make me hear my heartbeat in my ears which is quite disconcerting. One of my neighbours reckons the Angry Birds will disappear once the trees have finished fruiting. So, erm, only another month to go. 😳

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I sleep with earplugs because of Steve’s noisy breathing, but when we stayed with you they didn’t keep out the parakeets’ screeching. Nor the low flying aircraft! I kind of miss those birds, but not their noise when trying to sleep, that’s for sure. Love your description and the photo 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sadly earplugs don’t work on me. Either they fall out & I spend the night chasing them around the bed, or, if they fit, they sound like a seashell & I can hear whooshing ocean & my own heartbeat all night. 😢

      I was lucky with that photo, wasn’t I? Shame most of the birds flew off but I got one little green sod.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Magpies scolded my 7 lb ginger, Jammie (RIP) at 5:30 am during nesting and fledging season. The birds moved into the city as the suburban open space of Denver, Colorado grew. Jammie always liked to greet the dawn.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh my, don’t even get me started on Le Roi’s relationship with magpies. Even when he was in a cone he managed to have a stand-off with one. (He also weighs 7lbs, by the way!) 😆

      Like

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