Spring has "Sprung"

I was walking down one of our downtown’s dirty streets this morning on my way to a greasy, cholesterol laden omelet when I came across a terrifying springtime scene.

Near the library, in the shade, two birds were struggling with each other, a flapping, noisy ball of bird that kicked-up clouds of dust it moved and hopped along.

In one moment, one of the birds was strangling its partner with its beak. In another moment, they danced together, their fragile little bodies bouncing up and down on pogo stick legs.

Then they rolled in the dust, and a screeching came from one of the birds as its wings flapped violently, making it look twice as large as it is. I thought for a moment that the bird was being killed. A violent death at the hands of a comrade who became enraged after his counterpart stole a twig from its nest.

But then a beam of mid-morning sunshine shot on my face and I felt a warming inside me.

Now, I’m no ornithologist, but I do know what happens in the early spring as the earth thaws out and begins to be baked by that ball of flame that we forget about for four months or so.

Birds do get boners at this time of year, it’s as simple as that. The sun does something to them, and other species as well. It thaws their libido, which had been cooped-up in an icy hold all winter long.

I was witnessing a bird scrumping.

That, actually, was kind of beautiful, the circle of life that was taking place before my eyes.
But what was this?

As the bird ball became more and more intense, another bird came hopping along, positioning itself just a few feet from the feathery fucking.

It stood there, gazing at them and hopping from side to side, sometime uttering a barely heard “chirp, chirp.”

If there are perverted voyeurs in Bird World, this guy fit “the bill” perfectly.

I got the feeling he wanted desperately to join in. A ménage “caw” if you will.

But the bird ball didn’t even notice it, so the Perverted Parakeet stood, looking a bit dejected. I bet he wished he had hands, though.