Actually quite pleasant to hear birds calling to each other in the background, but I don’t think I have ever heard this much loud bird chirping and tweeting and whistling in ages. It is like somebody slipped Viagra in the bird bath. Yesterday, at about 4:00PM you would have thought it was last call at the Bird Bar…they were going ape-shit with trying to score some hot feather bird butt. I almost felt sorry for them and wanted to print out some bird porn and hang it in the trees.
Well that certainly isn’t something you hear every day. Sounds kind of like a spam subject line. Or maybe an item on a menu at a Chinese place.
Seeing as how this is the internet, I’m sure someone has some that you can use. Probably whoever sent that spam email, or the Chinese chef.
Not to pour cold water on feathery fantasies, but birds sing to police their territory as well as to meet eligible birds. It’s as likely they’re caroling “This is mine, stay away!” as “I’m horny and single, come and get some!”
Granted, either interpretation takes the sweet music out of birdsong. But I haven’t found sweet music in birdsong for years; here in the city the damn things start singing at 4 AM, not PM (sometimes even earlier), and NOTHING is sweetly musical at 4 in the morning.
Despite Cole Porter lyrics, I had never seen “birds do it” until a few days ago when I had to wait while a couple of birds pleasured themselves in my driveway. (Were those teeny-tiny cigarettes I saw?)
Yes, it’s [COLOR=“Magenta”]hot feather bird butt time [/COLOR]again – my favorite time of the year…
This weekend there was a sparrow orgy in my back yard. I think there were about 10 of them (hard to count when they kept climbing on each other). They didn’t even stop when the dog ran right up the pile o’ sparrows and started running in circles around them.
Husband: "C’mere! Look at this! : points at sparrows : “Why are they fighting like that?”
Wife: “Um, dear? They’re having sex.”
Husband: “Oh.”
And here I was hoping the OP was British.
Could be worse. The local squirrels seem to have decided that our garage roof is an appropriate place for their springtime orgies.
Nothing says good morning like a squirrel gangbang, I tell ya.
I can tell that spring is well underway when our local robin cock starts his territorial tweedling at about 4:45 a.m. – in the big sycamore right outside our bedroom window. He’s as regular as a clock; I hear the song commencement in my sleep and take mental note of the time.
“Huh - 4:45 a.m. Guess I’ve got another hour before I have to wake up.”
Out here the doves and finches start mating in January and keep it up till mid September. There are a lot of doves and finches.
Grackles are pretty interesting. I’ve never seen them actually mate, but their courtship is intriguing. The big males sit at the top of a tree, creaking and shaking their huge tails while staring at the sun. Females and young males sit on lower branches watching them. Sometimes the older males get in a knockout dragdown feather flinging battle, rolling about on the ground while the females and young males stand watching like kids in a schoolyard.
The male hummingbirds swing and sway back and forth in the air to impress the females, who respond by looking bored. I guess they eventually see something desirable in the male, as we have not yet run out of hummingbirds.
I miss my parrot George. Every spring he would stand in the window and do the “Check it out-I’m fantastic” dance for local robins and cardinals. He was sooo hopeful. If any responded, I would have invited them in- I always wondered if George was a girl or a boy bird