The Slice: It’s time for birdbrains to take flight

In an ideal world, “live and let live” would be my attitude when it comes to sparrows.

But this isn’t an ideal world, and I blame the birds.

You see, they built a nest right above my back door. Or I should say, they’ve been trying to build a nest.

As soon as they cram some pine needles and apple-tree leaves up in the narrow openings in the eaves, I reach up with a bent clothes hanger and tear it down.

Sounds cruel, I know. But you need to hear the whole story.

This all started a few years ago. Some magazine read by Northwest birds must have listed our house as a “Great place to raise a family.”

Because there are now so many sparrow nests in various exterior nooks that I can only assume they’ve got an active condo association.

Fine. Sparrows aren’t my favorite feathered friends. But I try not to be a snob.

Last year, though, a couple of birdbrains built a cozy starter home right above the back door. That meant a steady shower of foul, white streaks. The back porch started to look like an avian latrine.

But by the time this became a nuisance, it was too late to do anything.

You can think what you will of me, but no one contemplated tampering with a nest that might have eggs in it.

Soon came the inevitable cheep-cheep-cheep, and it was hard not to smile about the messy family’s progress.

I started calling one of the invisible youths “Little Petey.”

Then came the sad day when I stepped out onto the small porch and saw a pink, featherless baby bird twitching on the concrete.

I don’t know if this was an unfortunate accident or a case of fratricide. But there was no way to get that poor little guy back into the nest. And as I dealt with the pathetic creature, I began drafting an eviction notice.

There would be more cheep-cheep-cheep from over the back door that season. But it seemed a melancholy sound.

Winter came. The birds moved on. And I tore down the nest.

This spring, when they tried to rebuild, I countered their efforts on a daily basis.

I know there are various sprays and what-not that you can use. And if I could have reliably sealed off their access to the space, I would have done that.

But the only sure-fire solution was to reach up with the hanger and pull down the nesting material.

The birds watched me from the nearby apple tree. I don’t speak sparrow, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t print the names they called me.

Sorry, I said.

It now appears they have given up on the old homestead. With any luck, they found a nice, new location.

I wish them well. I hope their babies get a chance to fly.

All of them.

“Today’s Slice question: Who around here belongs to the most clubs, associations, fraternal orders, et cetera?