I am tired. Why am I tired? Allow me to enlighten you.
My readers should be made aware that I have been rescuing birds and other wildlife ever since I have been capable of picking them up.
The universe has recently shown its deep appreciation for my life-giving rescue efforts by gifting me a nesting pair of birds, which have displayed their gratitude and trust by choosing the tree outside of our bedroom window as their precious new real estate. I am usually delighted by the operatic performance of songbirds and birds in general, but there is something wrong with this pair.
I suspect, given the fact that I am unable to identify them, that they may be illegal migrants. They do not behave like the other birds. For one thing they get up in what is presumably their own time zone; 3:42 am to be precise. Initially, I thought they are just jet-lagged, but it is quite obvious that they do not comply with local cultural standards of birdness.
Their morning wake up call is neither song nor sound, but high-pitched, supersonic noise that breaks the sound barrier, as well as my nerves of steel. This noise has turned me into a self-absorbed and cranky narcoleptic. According to eyewitness reports, at precisely 3:43 am, my still unconscious mind has been offering my professional credentials to no one in particular or yelling any of the following into a dead cell phone: "Who died?", "GET EVERYONE INTO THE ESCAPE POD!" or "Where is my Mango?"
Approximately 15 minutes later, the witness alleges, neighbors are then woken out of their slumber by someone shouting: "STOP IT!!!! For Frak's sake!" at a tree.
Dear Mutant Birds,
Please kick your fledgling brood out of the nest,
teach them how to fly,
and SHUT THE FRAK UP!