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This is developing into a crisis of epic proportions. The house sparrows who nested in the air conditioner in previous years have arrived to find their space usurped by the starlings. It's 2:30 PM on a cloudy day that looks like it's fixing to rain soon and the house sparrows have declared war on the starlings. There is a rumble going on outside my bedroom window. Furious sparrows are dive bombing the starlings chirping all the while. Starlings are singing some sort of starling war chant and harassing the sparrows. The mockingbird is chasing them both. The mockingbird parks himself on top of the lamp post at the end of the walk and watches the show. Wilbur watches from the window where the sparrows are tantalizingly close. I worry he'll claw his way through the screen.
When I was having coffee with Ned this morning, I joked that I was going to give up writing poetry and write a screenplay instead. He looked stricken.
Met the kids at the bus, took 'em to piano. Andrea played with my Muffy who was dressed in her new lemonade stand outfit. Lizzy made a cute outfit for her Muffy, a purple dress with red shoes and a red hat, and a glasses case too - for the glasses she bought on our outing to the Muffy store.
Mrs. Reed's Cat Amid Blossoms
The hippie in the bathroom brought fudgesicles. He has young assistants. I still don't understand the mud that's better than regular drywall mix and not as difficult as plaster but it's drying there on the wall.
A little research on the web indicates that starlings like dark places and don't like loud noises. I turned the air conditioner on for a couple of hours when I got home from Kevin's but I don't think they were in there when I turned it on. It's supposed to be cold tonight so I don't want to run it all night. And if they haven't laid eggs yet they won't be at the nest anyway. They return to their roost at night. Maybe I'll turn it on when they arrive at 5:00 AM again.
Today's starting pitcher: Bret Saberhagen
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