An Ask of the Birds: Stop Loving My Car

This is my fifth summer in this apartment complex. I love it for many reasons: my own front door, one story, older community, close to the grocery store, it’s quiet…

What I really enjoy is having nothing more than a postage stamp of a front yard on one side of the sidewalk to my door, where I’m able to plant a flower garden and set up bird feeders that I watch while at my desk writing.

On the other side of the sidewalk is a huge red maple tree. Birds like to use it as a way-station coming to and from my feeders. At night, they’ve roosted there. How do I know? I could tell by the amount of poo I find on the trunk of the car each morning.

I always park in the same spot under this tree. Why not move elsewhere, you ask? Because the spot is at the end of my sidewalk, thus I’m able to back my car into the spot, which makes for ease of loading & unloading both from the trunk and the backseat, plus my ease of access to the driver’s seat.

Four full seasons of Poo Wars. I’d wash the car. Next day blobs of white. New blogs every day until I either went to the car wash again, or we got a heavy rain that would wash it off for me.

It started again this summer. As usual. By May, I had washed my car many times, which in itself was unusual considering how long winter lasted into April this year.

Finally, one fine day in early May, I came home with a clean car, got out, looked up at the tree, and said: Okay birds. I’ll continue feeding you and you can roost in the tree all you want but no more pooping on my car!

Since that date, there’s not been one dropping.

Seriously.

Three whole months. Lots of birds at the feeders. More so this year than ever. Even orioles and lots of woodpeckers.

And still, not one dropping.

None.

Who says the Universe doesn’t listen?

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