Do they think they sing?
Can they be so deluded
to imagine their noise
sounds dulcet and fluted?
Do they look in the mirror
and see sweet warbling wrens?
What’s in their water —
hallucinogens?
Each blats like a semi
but thinks it’s a peep?
I ponder this nightly
in honk-battered sleep.
Oddments 
March 5, 2021 at 5:03 pm
I suppose it’s music to their ears, only!
March 5, 2021 at 5:55 pm
Good point! “Only” being the operative word.
March 5, 2021 at 5:57 pm
p.s. Happy birthday tomorrow!
March 5, 2021 at 11:26 pm
Too funny. I love looking at them but have never lived close enough to have to listen to them or clean up after them. I remember a gardening friend a couple of years ago who tried everything on the web to get rid of them. It was rather hilarious the extent to which they went. 🙂
March 5, 2021 at 11:58 pm
I do understand going to great lengths to get rid of these icky birds. I don’t know why they can’t just go back to Canada.
March 7, 2021 at 8:51 pm
I really sympathise. Can you manage to sleep in earplugs? You’ve reminded me of renting a room in a farmhouse midweek. I came back one weekend and was woken at dawn by three miniature cockerels that had been placed in a cage under my window. They took it in turns to crow until I was one thirds hallucinating, two thirds imagining wringing their necks.
March 7, 2021 at 9:18 pm
I would not feel obligated to thank the person who put them there. Dear heavens! I haven’t tried ear plugs. Neck-wringers really have more appeal.
March 12, 2021 at 9:08 pm
I didn’t either. It was one of the few times I raised an objection. There was luckily plenty of space and they were relocated. It is a bit more tricky with wild birds. You could perhaps sing really, really loud next to them and hope they appreciate your music as little as you appreciate theirs.