One Bird

One bird.

One bird has made his home in the tree outside my window. He joins a host of other birds, sparrows, mourning doves, robins, larry-birds.

This bird is determined to be different. All the other birds, sparrows, mourning doves, robins, larry-birds, start singing a sweet song as light dawn breaks across the sky.

And one bird starts his singing at 2am.

I'm not quite sure what's wrong with one bird. Do the bright lights from the street confuse him? If so, why would he ignore the advice of all the other birds, sparrows, mourning doves, robins, larry-birds? I'm sure they've told him in their tweet tweet language that those lights are just for the ooky humans to see by. No reason to start singing.

Maybe one bird has insomnia. And instead of reading bird books or watching bird tv, he doesn't have a quiet chat with the other birds, sparrows, mourning doves, robins, larry-birds; he has decided to spread his insomnia to the humans that live nearby.

One bird doesn't care if humans like to sleep at night - and would like to do so with the window open. One bird doesn't understand cool breezes. One bird doesn't understand the very, very late blogging he has caused.

I'll have to make a point to chat with the other birds, sparrows, mourning doves, robins, larry-birds tomorrow. I'd like them to spread some words in their tweet tweet language.

One bird should know that in Houston shotguns are quite legal and available.

No bird.