Chuck a what?

I found this on Amazon when I was trying to figure out how to spell squirrel. What is our fascination in housing the animal kingdom? Do we feel they wouldn't be able to find their own residence unless we slapped a few boards together and ran it up a flagpole for them? Or are we such "lovers" of nature that we want them RIGHT outside our windows? I, for one, don't want any bird living anywhere near me. Why you might ask? Lets just say that I probably should have been in therapy for the past 20 years to get over my bird fears.

Example 1: When I was a kid, my brother and I were feeding some ducks and geese, and when I say some, I'd guess there were about 7,000 in the area we were in. Don't scoff at me, you don't know. My brother and I were attempting to feed these creatures with, perhaps, 4 slices of bread. Kind of like Jesus feeding 5000 with the bread and fishes. One problem, neither my brother nor I, are Jesus. In fact, remembering some of the words that came out of my mouth that day, I might just have some splaining to do to Jesus when I finally see him. "Uh, well, there were a lot of them and they appeared to have fangs." Not sure that will fly, but back to the story. As we fed these birds, they kept getting closer and closer to us. As we were just about out of bread, my ASSumption was, that the birds would see that we no longer had the material they desired and would turn and waddle their feathery butts back to the water and be on their duck way. Oh no, these vicious animals closed in on us two defenseless children and proceeded to back us up. We backed up until until we ran into a picnic table, at which point I clearly stated to them, that we were out of bread, but would be happy to bring more next Tuesday. (Warning, obscure reference that if you got, just dated yourself gramps) They continued their screams from hell, or honked them, if you prefer, until they burned that sound into my brain. I still have nightmares of that sound, AND what happened next. One bit me. That son of a bitch stretched out his beak, for what I thought was going to be a kiss, and it bit me. I've been scared ever since.

Example 2: In high school, my friend had a bird. I'm not sure what kind it was, I think it was some sort of bird from hell. Whenever I went to his house, the first thing I did was check the cage. If Cujo wasn't in the cage, my head was on a swivel looking for him. I know Cujo was a dog, but if you saw this thing, you would have seen the sheer madness in its eyes and thought to yourself, "This is an animal that only the devil himself could love. And my friend." I think birds are like cats. They know if you don't like them and they make a b-line right for you. Perhaps Cujo just liked the high perch, because he constantly tried to land on my head, which made me bob and weave like a prize fighter. The worst part was, if you were trying to compete in say, a ping pong match, I was at distinct disadvantage. The bird stayed off my opponent, while dive bombing me so I nearly had to hit the deck every time I took a swing. I hit the deck, my friend smashes the ball in an otherwise futile attempt to beat me. I would have been undefeated in my high school basement ping pong career, had I had the guts to smash that bird with my paddle. I did not, so I was not. Hard to win when you are cowering under the table with pee pants and a snot bubble. Plus, hard to return to high school with a reputation like that.

Example 3: My first "real" job, excluding my paper route, was working for a moving company loading trucks. On slow days in the summer, my other job was to mow the "grass" around our warehouse. I say "grass" because, I feel "hay field" would be closer to the truth, but that might be too generous a description as well. While mowing, I noticed a couple of what I called barn swallows, diving down to eat bugs that were being stirred up as I mowed. As I mowed, they seemed to be getting braver and braver, as they were diving right in front of my mower, and I could see them out of the corner of my eye, diving behind me. I was starting to get a little un-nerved, when PECK! Son of a, one of those birds just pecked me on the head. Did I have bugs in my hair? Was I getting close to their nest? If you are a dumb enough bird that builds your nest on the ground, WHEN YOU CAN FLY, then you deserve to get your home mowed. I see birds in the road as I approach and they run out of the way. Really? You have wings and you are going to run across the road? Stupid animals. This dive bombing incident reminded me of example 4.

Example 4: In the third grade, my friend Ronnie and I were walking home from summer school. Shut up, I'm smarter now. We saw a little baby bird in the driveway of a house, and it was kind of flopping around, so we walked up to get a better look. It appeared to be hurt, but before we could fully asses the situation, we were both attacked from the air by a larger bird. I'm not sure if this was a set up attack, you know, while our attention was on the bird on the ground, another bird would swoop in and steal our wallets, but something smelled fishy to me. Ronnie and I beat a hasty retreat and stood at the end of the drive rubbing our newly pecked heads. As we stood there, the lady of the house, threw open her door and started yelling at us to leave that poor bird alone. We weren't trying to hurt the bird, quite the contrary, but she steam rolled out with her hands flying and yelling all kinds of hurtful accusations at us. As she approached the downed bird, she too was pecked on her noggin, which sent Ronnie and I into a roar of laughter. She ran back to her front porch, turned and looked our way, and without saying a word, went inside and closed her door. Ronnie and I felt lucky to get out of there with just our pride hurt, so we made our way home and hoped that we had just given that bird some sort of human disease that would avenge our pain.

So you can see, I'm not going to bring these animals, whether it be birds, squirrels or any other of Gods creatures, closer to my home by providing housing. Although, as a kid, my parents had a martin house, attached to a pole cemented into the ground. One evening, just as the sun was starting to set, I watched a neighbor kid about knock himself out when he ran into that pole during a near deadly game of hide and go seek. The near death wasn't his, it was mine when I couldn't breath because I was laughing so hard. Gee, I wonder why I don't have very many friends?


Last thing, are we serious about the name of this one? Nutsie? Give me a break, how about squirrely? Or Kevin, the tree rat?