Annoying Bird Tricks

Rang up Mother, today, for her birthday, and the mystery of the regal brown birds may be solved: CORMORANTS! They were cormorants! Specific variety possibly to follow, if Mother can identify it from pictures. “Regal” isn’t a word I’d ordinarily associate with a cormorant — nasty, boaky birds that they are — but I’m proper jealous. I haven’t seen any cormorants. And I’ve been looking every day for anything regal and brown.

Today, I’ve only gulls and crows to report: badly-behaved gulls and crows.

FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF “I KNOW IT WAS YOU, FREDO! YOU BROKE MY HEART!”

The crows are still messing with my ornamental stones.

A decorative stone from my planter, now on the roof of an adjacent building, thanks to crows.

A decorative stone from my planter, now on the roof of an adjacent building, thanks to crows.

Was it you?  I KNOW IT WAS YOU!

Was it you? I KNOW IT WAS YOU!

One day, I’m going to catch a crow in the act, flying off with a stone in its claws. I’ve seen them do it, but I’ve never managed to time it just right, with the camera. They seem reluctant to steal when they know I’m watching. At first, I thought I was anthropomorphising, with that, but no joke, they’ll eat just fine when I’m sitting on the balcony, and hang about sunning themselves, but they won’t mess with the stones, or leave anything unsavoury. They wait till my back’s turned, for that.

FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF “SHOO!”

These are the feet of a greedy, greedy gull, raiding my feeder.

These are the feet of a greedy, greedy gull, raiding my feeder.

Look at the light shining through those chapped, scaly legs! You can see bones, blood vessels…essential gull parts.

FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF NOTHING IN PARTICULAR

This gull isn't being annoying.  It did squawk loudly for a while, but at the time this picture was taken, it was just lurking on the railing, letting the breeze ruffle its feathers.

This gull isn’t being annoying. It did squawk loudly for a while, but at the time this picture was taken, it was just lurking on the railing, letting the breeze ruffle its feathers.

Anyhow, the search is on for cormorants. If Mother gets to see them, I should, too. She’s not even a birder! Unfair.

Wet, angry goose

You know what’s almost never an improvement to your day? A wet, angry goose. This morning, I stepped out onto my balcony, and found myself face to face with — all together, now — a wet, angry goose. Yeah. I couldn’t see it, when I opened the door: it was off to the side, hiding behind the wall, most likely pecking through a pile of crow-excavated dirt. (Oh, right, I forgot to mention that: lately, when the crows arrive for their morning snack, and breakfast hasn’t yet been put out, they dig through my planter in search of seeds. Not only do they dig, but they toss excess dirt over the side; hence the mess.)

So, anyway, I didn’t see the goose, but the goose saw me, and the next thing I knew —

— HONK! —

oh, horrible! Oh, horrible! Most horrible!

— hissssssss! —

— and there was a goose missile headed straight for my face, flapping its wings, showing me its lamellae — which, in case you weren’t aware, are goose teeth. GOOSE TEETH. Dear, sweet jebus, GOOSE TEETH! Terrifying! Well, I ducked back inside, and the goose didn’t get me, but still…dreadful moment!

After our brief but antagonistic encounter, the goose flew up to the railing, and kept an eye on me as I went about, y’know, breakfast-related activities in the kitchen. It stayed all through breakfast, and nearly an hour after that, alternating between pacing my balcony and eyeing me up from the railing. Once I was reasonably certain it wouldn’t try to squeeze through the window and pummel me with its wings, I poked my lens out juuuuuuuust enough to get some pictures:

Up periscope!

Up periscope!

Ever notice that furry little feather-tuft on the back of a goose's neck?  I didn't, till today.  It looks like something a wild boar would have.

Ever notice that furry little feather-tuft on the back of a goose’s neck? I didn’t, till today. It looks like something a wild boar would have.

A malevolent goosey stare....

A malevolent goosey stare….

Terrifying!

Terrifying!

Look closely at this one, and you can see its horrid, deplorable GOOSE TEETH, sticking out a bit on the side.  I was hoping it would open its beak, let me get a shot of them, but it never did.

Look closely at this one, and you can see its horrid, deplorable GOOSE TEETH, sticking out a bit on the side. I was hoping it would open its beak, let me get a shot of them, but it never did.

The sun began to rise; the goose still had half an eye on me.

The sun began to rise; the goose still had half an eye on me.

Honestly, I don’t know why people aren’t more afraid of geese. Their wings stretch out really far: when this one charged me, it couldn’t even get its wings open all the way, because of the balcony railing. They have tooth-like structures in their beaks, and they hiss. And they’re completely prehistoric-looking, with their long, snakey necks, and their legs — have you seen their legs? Their skin’s all loose, in the leg area, like ill-fitting scaly bags, barely holding in the bones and what-have-you. Their feet are big and clunky, with extra claws on the back: what are those for? Are they for KICKING YOU IN THE FACE? Awful, awful birds, and we’ve got so many of them, at the moment, honking and flapping and invading people’s morning routines.

Oh, and I didn’t see a bufflehead, today. There are some workmen parked up in the middle of False Creek, building a houseboat, or something, and the birds are giving them a wide berth. Insult to injury! Psh.

OH! And a bald eagle flew RIGHT BY MY WINDOW, this morning (pre-bufflehead disappointment, post-goose), with a pack of crows in hot pursuit, and I was ON THE PHONE WITH THE CABLE COMPANY, complaining about poor reception, and missed my chance at a picture! DOUBLE insult to injury! DOUBLE psh!