I hate redwing black birds.
No really I do. And I do apologize if you're the acting assistant treasurer to the local Redwing Blackbird Society (please God don't let there be a redwing blackbird society or I'm going to get slammed).
You see, I didn't used to hate them. It all happened when I was in 5th grade. My dad was the holder of the remote, like you know, all men. I swear it's some sort of pagan phalic symbol or something. He who holds the remote rules the
So I sorta got stuck watching whatever dad said I was going to watch. That is, except for when he was out of town working. My dad worked away all week doing construction, and about every other weekend, he'd come home. It was kinda like having reversed divorced parents, which I suppose is why Dad eventually came home to work.
When dad was gone, and on Sunday nights when Walt Disney would have a cartoon on (once a quarter at best), mom would pull out the hideaway bed in the living room, and we'd all pile on and watch cartoons while eating graham crackers and frosting for supper.
Gee mom, when did you stop being so friggin cool? (she doesn't read this so she'll never know.. nahhh nahh.. I'm jumping on the bed mom! har). Thinking back, she had to be around 29 then. *just like me* :) and I remember thinking that mom was old. *sigh*
So anyway, back to dad's remote. Dad would watch all these horrible outdoor nature shows. I spent so many Sunday's with Bill Dance that I can't possibly count them all. On the flip side, I do know more about lures and now to set one in a big mouth bass' jaw more than any other teen at the time. Not that I have ever caught a big mouth bass.
One day, dad was watching a documentary or educational show or something. I don't remember it's been like *7 whole years* now :p, and the only part I can remember now, is watching redwing blackbirds and how aggressive they are. Not only will they attack other blackbirds, but they'll also attack anything black, with red accent if they think it's a redwing black bird.
Then they showed a redwing blackbird, attacking a black sock, with some red felt stitched to it.
It's important to note, in this part of the story, that I used to have a red and black winter coat when I was in 5th grade.
Also, I used to walk home almost every day, around a mile-ish from the school... with said coat... with red-winged blackbirds following me, sitting on the telephone lines, just like some scene from "The Stand". I was terrified back then, but I'm still a little creeped out by them now.
So the other day, I went out to check on Gene's blueberry bushes, and a black bird is flipping out, about to attack my head. I decided that the blueberry bushes can just die for all I care, I was out of there!
After a couple days of cooling off, and watching in that direction, I tried to go back... because I am BRAVE. *ppftt* (because I didn't see anything). A few steps in the right direction I discover that the "bird" was flipping out because there was a baby bird they were feeding and boy howdy, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time!
I also figured out that they were actually starlings.
Just for fun, I took the photo above and it looked horrible. I don't do that great shooting up into the sky. So I brought it home, started playing with it, and you can see the before and after here:
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