As has become custom, my love-hate relationship with the pigeons on my window sill continues; they love to irritate me to within an inch of my sanity and I hate them for trying to befriend me. The united voice choir of pigeons (U.V.C.P.) is at it again and they seem to have recruited a fleet-footed tap-dancing raven that is without a doubt as tone -deaf as a severely inebriated man. I awake to the cacophony of poorly coordinated, discordant though slightly harmonious cooing of pigeons accompanied by an inexplicable tap-dance by the newest recruit to the band. The cawing of that infernal creature I cannot stand and after running out of objects to throw at the window in a seemingly lost battle at chasing them away, I surrender to the ‘music’ and kiss my slumber away.
It’s yet another grouchy morning; not that I have anything against the morning but this has gone on long enough and besides, I haven’t really had much sleep of late and early mornings are great for this but alas the U.V.C.P. has other ideas.
Spring is a great season I daresay.
It’s apparently the season of life and love; trees awaken from months of slumber and grow some leaves to cover their bare sides; flowers bloom and fill the air with sweet scents of breed after breed that can be quite invigorating and intoxicating at a go; bees in abundance as they spread around pollen from flower to flower in reckless abandon occasionally smashing into all and sundry as they buzz around; even the fowls seem much happier with general warmer temperatures and make a point to show you as they splash around in ponds and canals all over the place.
For all these creatures of the earth, I have nothing but joy and envy save for one. I wouldn’t have a problem if they just minded their own business but they don’t now do they? Flying around, darting in and out, biting here and there and moving on as if it’s their right to do so. Yes, these are more tenacious than any I have ever seen. Sleep has become a thing of the past; counting sheep has been replaced with counting them.
They buzz, dart, bite they fly off. Hybrid too they have become, I can attest to this. They are organised, fearless and ruthless. I can almost swear that they now work in teams; some to lift the blankets and sheets covering my head and the rest to attack the top of my head. It sounds ridiculous but I can almost swear I have seen them do this, almost accidentally. I once woke up in a start only to find my blanket hovering strangely above my head but dismissed it as a confused dream and went back to sleep. However, shock on me when I awoke the next morning to find a set of bites on my forehead. Indeed, hybrid they have become and quashed they must be.
So yes I love spring and all the attendant life it brings along but I still stand by my assertion, hybrid mosquitoes must be quashed and I shall lead the campaign. Feel free to join me!
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