Neighbirdhood Gossip

This morning my tree is full of Red-whiskered Bulbuls, my favorite of the more common bird species that populate LA. They are beautiful: eccentric black hats, full bellies, bright red face cheeks, bright red butt cheeks, and a song that sounds like a frog croak. They travel around in pairs. I have obviously been like… hey, you don’t really know yourself until you’ve spent some time on your own. But they want to mate for life. That’s what they wanna do. So it’s none of my business.

I have found that a lot (if not all) of the “common” birds are exceptionally beautiful; the wren, the cedar waxwing, the bushtit, the hummingbird, the scrub jays, the mockingbirds, the warblers, the ravens, the hawks… I love them all.

My neighbor, Bewick’s wren, is an exceptional beauty with a voice much louder than her build should allow. She is so fuckin small that we are actually all worried about her. Like, obvi she looks great.. but at what cost…. When I record the neighborhood birds in the morning on Merlin, the Cornell app for birders, Bewick’s wren is omnipresent, her song weaving it’s way in and out of every captured sound wave. Which is fine, right? She’s got a lovely voice but sometimes I am like… ok girl, we heard you…. I am not crazy about her description on the Merlin app. “Superficially similar to Carolina Wren but duller grayish-brown”…… Ok just say you like redheads? No need to rag on my girl for being a brunette. Brunettes make the world go round.

(I will say… privately, the Carolina wren took my fuckin breath away the first time we met.)

I have a tenant that I love, a Northern Mockingbird that lives in the bright pink bougainvillea archway that leads one into the lushest parts of my garden. She recently has started to enter her nest so excitedly that I am beginning to believe she has babies she hasn’t yet told me about. (I’m not offended, I just want her to know she can tell me these things! I’m not a typical landlord, I’m a fun landlord!) She was here when I moved in and I’m not a psychopath so I am obviously going to let her keep living here. But not rent-free. I expect payment in the form of bizarre noises, insane songs, the mimicry of other bird calls and city noises, car alarms, construction sounds, etc. etc.

The scientists seems to have a thing against my neighbor, Bushtit. I am not going to say anything about her name because I don’t think making fun of names is ever ok (unless it’s the name of a white man whose name is so boring it warrants comment), but “Bushtit” feels particularly… strange. I guess that’s the beauty of given names: you don’t have to keep them. BT is delightful to me. She is the tiniest of wonders but scientists have decided this description is more apt: “fluffy gray ball of a bird” “drab” “stubby dark bill” ?????????? I have to believe she was married to one of these scientist losers at some point and this description of her is his limp-dick revenge post-divorce. Good for you, Bushtit. A lot of the hottest femmes I know started their journeys married to ugly abusers.

I have wanted to meet Cedar Waxwing since I moved to LA. She is apparently a common bird but fuck if she hasn’t evaded me all these years. A few days ago I came home from my walk and about 75 Cedar Waxwings were having a meeting in my tree. They were so spectacular in appearance that I didn’t mind their high pitch song and I did not bother to get upset about the bright red shit they dropped all over my yard and porch. I think they came here for the Holly tree convention I am hosting in my backyard. Anyone who signs up for the premium convention pass gets unlimited access to the bright red berries that have made my tree look so scrumptious that I fear I might be tempted to eat them. This was definitely not a “don’t meet your heroes” situation. She was absolutely lovely and I hope her and her whole crew come back. (If she’s reading this: please tag my company in images you took at the Holly tree convention. Liking and sharing really helps small businesses like mine get the word out! Click, like, subscribe… it really helps the channel!)

Now, listen, I love my neighborhood and I don’t want to say anything I wouldn’t say publicly… but…. some of my neighbors are insane. Insane. And you may be thinking, “E.R., is it that gang of parrots? The ones with the screlching belching wrelching song that sounds like a gang of hyenas has entered the tree line with grievances to disburden?” Yes, but it’s two separate gangs of psychos. Sometimes these girls are the less common Yellow-headed Amazons, and because they are often trapped and sold in the pet market, I have chosen not to report any of my noise complaints to the authorities. (Ally!) Sometimes they are a flock of the more common Mitred Parakeet. I guess if you get to be a gorgeous green bird, you don’t get to also have a beautiful singing voice. As my friend Broderick says. “God does not give with both hands.”

I have a whole life that I am supposed to be doing as I write this, but as a Gemini, gossip is a form of hygiene. Thank you for helping me brush my spiritual teeth. I’ll be back with more goss the moment I hear these bitches chirp.

All my love,

E.R.F.

(None of these images are my own. Don’t sue me, I’m really tired.)