Dirty bird

I have a dirty bird on my front stoop. He sits atop the light outside the entry and lets loose. The slate beneath his perch is stained white with his handiwork.

As I walk a visitor out the front door, I scold this pesky finch. "No more crap outta, you!" I command. My friend laughs.

Moments earlier I told Sandy of my excitement over the eagle who graced us with his presence (see "The eagle has landed"). Now, here I stand annoyed at this mere chirp of a bird for doing what comes naturally. I remind myself that nature doesn't exist purely as a photo op. And living within the natural world doesn't come with air-brushed perfection. But trick-or-treaters are coming tonight, so (not for the first time) I will find myself acting as a one-woman cleaning crew for wildlife.

I could chase the finch away, but I'm not really sure who was here first. I suspect it wasn't me. Besides I really do enjoy my feathered neighbors and don't mind providing them warm harbor on a cold day. I hope he feels the same ... that he doesn't mind me invading his space. That maybe I'm more of a diversion that a nuisance!