This is how I know spring has arrived:
1. Bunnies
*We have a LOT of bunnies in our neighborhood. They are a scant minority next to the GIANT MUTANT SQUIRRELS that think they actually own the deed to our home and appear to sustain themselves off the plastic they gnaw off our trashcans provided by The City Of Minneapolis. Minneapolis replaces our swiss-cheesed trash cans about twice a year, just short of when the garbage starts to fall out of the holes the squirrels are somehow able to chew through 1 inch of solid green plastic. We never report anything to the City, so assume the garbage dudes periodically report our swiss-cheesiness to someone in Can Replacement. ANYWAY, back to the bunnies… Lately, they are everywhere. I feel bad when I find one in our yard because there is always a moment of panic when the bunny tries to run in 4 directions at once – all of which end in a wild, long-eared scramble of confused bunny and chain-link fence.
“The gate is open!”, I holler to them, helpfully! I even point at the gates, one on each side, like a flight attendant. “Go! THE GATES ARE OPEN!” Scramble! Hophophop! Chain link scramble!… and eventually, they find the gate. The Baby, my sweet little MonkeyBear, is now fully aware and desperately in love with all forms of wildlife – but most especially THE BUNNIES.
Monkey runs after them waving her little chubby arms in the air and pointing, POINTING, POINTING! frantically at the bunnies and yelling, “AH! AH! AH!”, which I think we all know means, “Mother! Are you seeing these most lovely and darling hopping spectacles of bunny adorableness?! If I could touch one, I would pet it gently and carefully.”
The bunnies hear this: “I WANT TO RIP THE EARS OFF THAT BUNNY AND POKE MY FINGER IN ITS FACE OVER AND OVER SAYING, “NOSE! NOSE! NOSE!” AND THEN I WANT TO SHOVE WHAT IS LEFT OF IT’S FACE IN MY MOUTH!”
Really, we’re talking 6 of one and half a dozen of the other… in the end it means that bunnies continue to be everywhere, continue to freak out in our yard and probably are holding secret self-defense classes to protect themselves from loving toddlers.
* This is not our yard. Nor one of the bunnies that has ventured there. This is a stunt yard and a stunt bunny.
2. Junk
Someone has left a rusty, old, jacked-up, seatless, junky 10-speed bike on the sidewalk in front of our house. You just don’t see that happen much in the winter.
The car that parks in the alley directly behind my garage and therefore requires me to maneuver out of my garage in a flurry of curse words every morning has a flat tire. I would call his junky except that my own vehicle has experienced not one , but TWO flat tires this week. The difference is that we keep getting our flats repaired and this car just sits, flat and IN MY WAY every day.
There are old toys, rakes, hubcaps, beer bottles all around the neighborhood… in the alleys and the along the curbs – the aftermath of living in a state where once a year a big blanket comes and covers up all the crap laying around and allows everyone to forget about what’s under the blanket until MEMORIAL DAY when the blanket finally goes away for few months and everyone goes, “Heeeeey… I wondered where our gas barbeque went!” and cleans up all the junk. Or, if you live in Minneapolis, not so much. Instead, everyone just sort of looks at the junk and shrugs and figures that the blanket will be back in a few months anyway…
*
* This is also a stunt Angry Winter Hating Gas BBQ, not our own.
3. The Birds
Maybe you think that birds get up with the dawn. Maybe you think when the first little pink and orange and golden rays of light first begin to weave through the sky in the morning, that’s when the birds wake up and take flight and sing their sweet twinkly chirps of good morning to the world.
Like this:
Except, not.
In our neighborhood, in the spring, the good morning “song” begins around 3am. And it sounds less like “singing” and more like “someone punching and stomping on angry birds that have a touch of sinus infection“.
Less, “chirp”. More, “TWEEET!!!! CAWWWWWWWWWWW! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOP! TWEEEEEEEET!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOP!”
One of them just screams, “WOOOOOOPAAAAALY WOOOOOOOOOO!” over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
More like this, but, you know… at 3am :
I lay there and I think about my options.
- Run, screaming like a banshee, out my front door and start grabbing trees and shaking them (someone might call the cops)
- Slather trees with poisoned peanut butter and birdseed (which would probably would kill the squirrels, too, and I can’t tell you how tempting that is – but I know it’s at best mean at worst, illegal. )
- Invest in a slingshot (again, not sure about the legality)
- Use our power water sprayer. (forget sleep, spend nights wetting birds into silence)
- Earplugs (won’t hear The Baby if she wakes up, and she does. A lot.)
- Sleeping pills (ditto.)
- Earplugs AND sleeping pills (overkill ditto.)
- Smash the blanket into my face and try not to go crazy and wish I wasn’t such a light sleeper. Whimper. Hum lightly. Feel irritated that it’s always something by “The Carpenters”. Pull pillow over head. Have sensation of clausterphobic panic where I can’t breathe. FEEL MOMENTARY INTENSE HATRED FOR EVERYONE IN MY HOUSE THAT IS SLEEPING THROUGH THIS EVERY NIGHT WITHOUT A PROBLEM. Whimper some more.
Folks, I think we have a plan.