TMI Thursday: for the birds

Have I mentioned that a loving frighteningly territorial mamma bird must have smelled the maternity around here?

Said bird constructed a nest atop our front porch light, and has now given birth to some tweety little babies.

(Hubs was going to move the nest before she laid eggs; he decided against it at my bidding.)

(The more I think about it, the more convined I am that Ms. Mamma Bird should be sending me a thank you card.)

So, you know, I took a picture of the nest before the eggs hatched. There might not even have been any eggs in there at that point. It's just a little too high up for me to see inside, and though I considered getting a chair to stand on for a better shot, I thought no... don't push it, Amber. Give Mamma Bird a little privacy and respect.

Photo 1 did not seem to ruffle any feathers.

Anywaddle, the other day I came home from lunch and saw Mamma Bird perched up there, and noticed the cutest little baby birdie face poking out from under her breast. Awww, how sweet.

I got the camera, stood on my stoop, and aimed. The flash must have done it. Mamma Bird flipped the beak out. I mean, she didn't just flap her wings and fly away, she flapped and hovered and squawked at me -- and I ran back into the house like a coward.

I didn't even get the photo. I swear, the flash must have gone off for her to have freaked out the way she did, but there was nothing there. No little baby birdie prize for me.

So, knowing that I've pissed off the Mamma, I've been a bit tentative to leave or enter my house through the front door as of late.

Unfortunately, due to the overgrown rose bush and hubs' multiple stacks of useless lumber chimnea firewood propped up against the back fence gate, I really only have the one option to come and go.

Usually, I just try to avoid eye contact. But, I'm a smidge pretty darn nearsighted and never really wear my glasses, so if I want to sneak a peak at the adorable infant chirpers, I have to get a little look on my way to or from the house.

This morning, Mamma Bird had friends with her -- a little fowl gang, probably there to send a message. I usually peek around the front door before leaving. I like to check see if she's on the nest, and then I high-tail it to my car envisioning that beak pecking away at my temples before I can get to the driver's seat.

So, when I peeked around the door this morning and didn't see Mamma Bird, I heaved a sigh of relief and stood there for a minute. Then, allofthesuddenspice, there she was -- the glass door ajar and all that stood between us -- hovering, squawking, asking me if I had a death wish.

I actually went back inside and waited a few minutes to leave, and sort of shielded my eyes when I finally did.

We performed the same song and dance when I got home from work just now for lunch, but she upped it a notch:  there was actually a bird sitting at the top of my driveway, and I swear that bird was the look-out, just waiting for me.

I am a prisioner in my own home. I. am. terrified. (And I totally understand how Mitchell felt last night on Modern Family.)

However, I understand Mamma Bird's position in all of this.

In fact, once December rolls around and I have a little something of my own in a nest, I may be inclined to treat my mother-in-law in very similiar fashion.

Update: I just got home from work... again. Now, it's 6:30 in the evening. Mysteriously, the nest is gone! Do birds normally dump the nest once the babies fly away? And, it doesn't seem like it's been long enough since they were born for them to be able to survive on their own. If something went awry, the Mamma may blame (and subsequently harm) me. Oh, shit.