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We had a bird who made her nest in the eaves of our front porch. She went to and fro, gathering cozy bits to welcome her babies into the world. Her cozy bits were exactly what she wanted and nothing more. Occasionally, she would break for a bath in the puddle on the sidewalk. After the rain, she was on the hunt for the worms arising from their floody lairs.Those worms didn't quite like it. In so much rainwater. Although, the mama bird seemed to enjoy it, she would quickly return to her nesting because it was almost time. She got it just right.

After the baby birds came, she noticed some bothersome stuff here and some scratchy bits there. She didn't quite like it. In a dirty nest. She would tidy up between trips to the sidewalk for dinner, fussing all the while. Those worms didn't quite like it. In mama bird's beak. But she did what she had to do.

Old lady cats were younger then. Spry and clever. Our Hodges made her nest just beneath the birds, lying in wait. She had a plan and executed it nicely. When a baby fell from the nest, what with all the fussing over uncleanliness from mama bird and the frightened squawking from siblings (there was, after all, a spry, young cat below), it was inevitable. Hodges carried that bitty bird away and had her way with it. Mama bird didn't quite like it.

It was in her nature to pounce and hunt but I too found Hodges' behavior abhorrent, nonetheless.

The story might've ended there if it hadn't been for the doggedness of mama bird. Hodges would not hear the end of her ferocious indignance. Her vehemence was such that she subdued her own fears and began a campaign to dive repeatedly into Hodges' head and face, pecking wildly. With vengence. Eventually, she launched all the rest of her babies and flew away but I don't know where.

Hodges didn't quite like it. On the porch anymore. It was during this spring that she began her spinsterhood atop our clothes dryer.

She's there now, scowling her old lady scowls. I don't quite like it.


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