Monday, July 20, 2015

VP Day

As in, Victory Over Pidgeons Day.

After a few phone calls and one threat to call the department of health, I managed to finally capture the attention of our back neighbors' property manager, and he sent workers over to affix... I shall hereby call them Potentially Deadly the dormers of said property:

They also foamed in underneath the dormers, where the pigeons had burrowed in and nested, and put some Potentially Deadly Impalers pointing downward right there. 
Ha-HA!!!  The sum-beyotches can't figure out what's going on.  They keep checking near their old nesting places and wandering all around the roof:

That's right, you Rats with Wings, your little babies got foamed in.  They will DIEEEEEE a horrible deaaaaaath.  And you will have to find a new place to nest.

I'm not usually so bloodthirsty, but I've just had it.  Last week, I did my Weekly Poop Sweep-Up, then went to hook up the hose and the sprayer nozzle to finish off the job.  When I walked back onto my porch, what did I see?  What had fallen in just that three-minute interim?

Not a cracked egg with a dead, half-formed pigeon fetus inside.  I had already swept up three of those that day.

It was an actual baby pidgeon that had somehow tumbled off the roof, bounced off the rain gutter, and landed flat on its back.  On my porch.  It's little umbilical cord was hanging off its belly.

It had fluffy white downy feathers, and it was still ALIVE.  I watched it take a few more breaths, and then it stopped breathing.  It had probably broken all of its little hollow bones.  I sighed, got a plastic bag, used it to pick up the bird without actually touching it, then threw it over the fence next onto my neighbors' property.  Which means that I threw it, like, a foot.  I know it was petty of me, but I was just SO SICK of this disgusting s-hole.

So, we'll see what happens.  My property manager said to watch and listen very carefully for any potential nesting on our own building.  "Oh," I said, "I will.  Most definitely."

There were three dudes here to do the work.  Since I had just swept our porch last night, it was still poop-free, so I let the kids stand out there (with shoes) to watch the guys put the stuff up.  Since the sliding door was open so I could make sure the kids weren't bugging the dudes, I heard the dudes talking.

Turns out, all three of them are scared of heights.

Snooooort....Hahaha!!!  Um, hoooow did they get this job if they're scared of heights??  Haha!  I would hear snippets of their conversation:

"Sam, I swear, if you don't hold this ladder steady, I will kill you."

"You can do this, Jeff!  Just...don't look down!"

"Why do you get to stay at the bottom and hold the ladder?"

"Um, because I'm fatter than you, and the ladder totally won't support my weight."

"Okay.  Phew.  I'm done.  It's John's turn."

"Dude, I already took a turn!!"

"We each have to take a couple of turns, since Fat Sam won't take his turn!"

"I'm telling you, it won't support my weight!  I will DIE!"

It was pretty funny.

Fat Sam was nice and let my kids climb on his small ladder:

I hope this does the trick!!

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