birds, comedy, Humor, Nature, Pets, women

‘That Owl’ Made Me Eat Crow

A few weeks ago, I wrote about a barred owl that hung out on the peak of my house and disrupted my sleep with its prancing and pawing of each little hoof, and then some.  As I started writing this, I wasn’t sure if the owl should be referred to as ‘who’ or ‘that’ so I consulted my friend, Grammar Girl. She said I should use ‘that’ when referring to the owl because I didn’t know its sex or if it had a name. Heck, I didn’t get very close with the owl, nor did I want to after what I heard up on the rooftop, so I’m fine with calling it ‘that owl’-‘that owl’ that made me eat crow.

After writing Who Cooks for You, I went on a little excursion and left the house empty for a few days.  When I came back it looked a little like a winter wonderland. I swear that every bird on the island had been to my house during my brief absence because there were white remnants of bird visitors everywhere.  I envisioned birds floating around in the water drinking cocktails with little umbrellas in them and snickering when they dropped anchor on the cement nearby.  I could see them swinging on my pretty pink swing, letting one loose between the slats, and high-fiving each other when everything seemed to make it through, which wasn’t often.  When they had enough sun, it seems they met on the upper deck for a late dinner, watched a beautiful sunset, and painted the railing white before heading back to their nests for the night.  Sounds lovely, I know, but the worst part was, they thought the party was a recurring event-every morning and evening.  I needed a way to get rid of them, and during my search, I was introduced to eating crow.

It seems that one humane way to deter unwanted bird visitors is to place a plastic predator in the yard to frighten them.  Oh, I had a real predator that must have kept bird visitors in check and I scared it off with a few clangs of a pie pan or two.  I traded a few grinding sounds in the wee hours of the morning for a blanket of bird excrement that won’t come off no matter how hard I set the water pressure on the hose.  Okay, I’ll say it, “I should have hired ‘Who Cooks for You’ when he/she wanted to cook for me.”  There, I said it and no, I don’t feel better because of it.  The real predator is gone and now I’m doing my penance. Every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to bed, I look out my window and see the plastic owl that I had to buy in order to frighten the birds away. It’s right there, perched on the table in plain view and I have to move it every 2-3 days to keep the birds guessing.  It is a constant reminder of what I did to ‘that owl’-the one who made me eat crow.


2 thoughts on “‘That Owl’ Made Me Eat Crow”

  1. I feel your pain. I too have a plastic owl, but it didn’t keep a mother robin from building her nest no more than three feet away from where it was placed.


    1. Hi Wynne and thanks for following Myfruitofthemwomb! It seems we have the same skills when it comes to bird management. Thanks for #sharingthelaughter!
      Eliza G


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