On fireworks and bird poop…

From my apartment I have probably the best view of the annual Fourth of July fireworks show of anyone, or as good as, in my town. But in the eight or so years I have lived there I think I only have seen it two or three times tops. I’m an over-the-road trucker, so I am often out of town. Sometimes I see the displays at various places while driving down the road.

Once I saw a pretty good show sitting in a parking lot at the Mexican border in Southern Arizona. It was not the Fourth of July but another celebration. Also I sometimes have witnessed the nightly displays as I drive past Disneyland, or through Sacramento during the State Fair.

But I think it just might work out where I have time to see my hometown Fourth of July fireworks show this year. I have to leave first thing the next morning, though.

One year I was all set to watch the show. Had my lawn chair set up on the back balcony and the phone rang. The dispatcher needed a favor. At first I declined. In this business if you do something for the dispatcher you are a hero, so you think, but soon enough you are told you should have done something different — you go from “hero to zero” as they say. But anyway, I fell for it and called back and took it. I did watch part of the show, but then went to bed but could not sleep for all the noise and wound up having to get up in a few short hours.

One year we had a nest of doves above us on the balcony roof supports, mom and daddy taking turns sitting on the egg. We had some family with us. We had to advise them to not sit directly under the nest (danger of falling dove poop). I wonder what the doves thought of all the noise.

And on those doves: we thought they were cute as heck when they first began building that nest. My late wife was the first to notice. We were entertained by watching them fly hither and yon gathering twigs and whatever they could find to build that little home. And my wife read up on it and discovered that both the female and male take turns sitting on the eggs. We even eventually watched the newborn bird learn to fly.

I can’t remember whether we went through one or two mating seasons — of the doves I mean. But what I do recall is that while it was all fun and amazement at first we soon enough discovered it was a pain too. All that dove sh..

So either the second or third season (and now I am thinking they do this twice a year — yeah, kind of like old married couples — okay I’m joking) I tried to discourage them from nesting there on the balcony. Every time one of the doves would fly up there I would swat at it with a broom. No luck. I could not always be there and they would come back again and again.

Finally, I guess after the second round, the complex handyman put some goop up there that discouraged them from ever coming back. Now don’t tell the Fish and Game because I think a big box store in our town tried to keep the swallows from nesting on their building and subjecting the customers to falling poop and were told by the authorities that they could not disturb the bird nests. (Why am I even writing about all this? Because I like to write and I have time on my hands).

And back to the doves. Nature is fun to watch. But it can be cruel. I think they had twins and one was killed by a predator bird. It’s a tough world.

Anyway, have a wonderful Fourth, but beware of falling poop.







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