Chirping Gets the Bird

Back home, the sound of chirping was the song of birds. Mother Nature’s house band. Here, in this place that’s not the woods, people have little chirping devices they hold up to their mouths. They say things like, “Where you at?” Then it chirps. Then there’s some form of garbled language I cannot decipher, but I doubt it’s meaning is of importance. Unlike my elk brethren, I don’t have super hearing, yet I can hear this chirp from a block away. I don’t like it.

I’ve decided this atrocity is an insult to birds, and moreover an insult to nature herself. This calls for retaliation. Now, whenever I see a person using a chirping device, in the good name of all birds, I thrust my middle finger at them.

Unfortunately, it seems “the bird” has not been effective in quieting the chirp. Apparently, these sinners are used to getting the finger and have grown accustomed to it. Therefore, I must find a new form of vigilantism. I will consult my local police person to learn whether or not impalement with pointy antlers is legal.