*sigh* Bird.

[sab]

Edith's still on the bird-a-day habit, alternately dragging in wee little brown wrens and gigantic grey pigeons which she proceeds to eat, under my desk, beak to bones, leaving nothing behind but an (ever-increasing) pile of feathers. Pretty soon I'll be able to start my own eBay business, selling pillows and comforters and puffy downy parkas.

It's a good thing I hate birds.

It doesn't even strike me as strange anymore, except for the bit yesterday where I made the mistake of taking Lennier back over to my desk, and found myself typing to the rhythmic smacking of Edith crunching away at my feet. I'm back on the bed now. She won't threaten me here. Because we're just that kind of household, the kind where one needs to implement rules like: "no birds on the bed."

A couple days ago I woke up to some not-uncommon thumping and flapping, and blinked my eyes open in the dark only to see --

HOLY CRAP, this one's ALIVE, this one she's working on now, it's thwacking its little wings like crazy under my desk and there's feathers everywhere, it's like a goddamned pre-teen pillowfight in here --

-- blinked my eyes open in the dark to see the lazy, vulture-ish circles of a pigeon making laps above my head. It was only vaguely surreal, in a sort of infantile-mobile way, and then Edith leaped and bit down and I went back to sleep with the sounds of bone-crunching as my lullaby.

The one she brought in yesterday was so big it dragged out in front of her when she zippered back and forth down the hall, its wings spread out across the carpet, dangling from her dextrous nose like an avian cowcatcher.

When I walked to the grocery store this morning I saw half a dozen sparrows playing on the sidewalk, and they all looked like snacks to me.

Comments

Grody jody!

[inapickle.livejournal.com]

My cat wasn't much for birds-- my stepfather punished her with a bell after she killed a starling-- but she was crazy about mice. She only brought them home as presents, though. She'd bring in this tidy little dead mouse and leave it on the doorstep, and watch anxiously for my reaction.

"It's not too small for you, is it? You're okay with the color? I wasn't sure about the color."

So then I'd pet her and throw it in the garbage when her back was turned.

She had this boyfriend who came over to eat her food sometimes. One time he brought her a small mole, you know, he ripped it open like a warning to others and left it in the middle of our yard.

She was so upset, thinking we'd blame her for the mess. But we knew it couldn't be she who'd killed it, because it didn't fit her M.O.

Anyway. I couldn't hack it if I had to try and live my life a heartbeat away from a cat eating a dead bird. You have guts o' steel.

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

Go Edith! So not very fond of birds, except for those large predatory birds that would be the one's snacking on cats.

My two siamese would be incredibly jealous to know there are cats out there allowed to go forth and hunt their avian prey at will. But the crunching. You're a brave woman to endure the crunching!

[ratcreature]

Hm. Look at the bright side, at least the birds your cat drags in are relatively fresh. My sister who has two cats and a dog is far happier with the (half-dead) animals and carcasses the cats drag in, because last time the dog did something like that it had dug up the neighbors' dead cat (which had been dead for quite a while and had been buried somewhere in the garden), and got mostly the rotten cat corpse all over my sisters oriental rug (of course the dog had to choose the one not washing machine suitable rug my sister owns to chew on and roll in the rotten corpse).

[selenak.livejournal.com]

Never mind the bloody birds, you're missing our date with Timov, and my time pre-family breakfeast is rapidly running out...

[http://users.livejournal.com/_swallow/]

Wow!