I did it again, except this time I laughed. This had happened many times before, but there was just a different feeling around it. Like I'm creating some sort of conspiracy against this now. Bring out the big guns, you could say. Last year I spotted it and I don't know why it scares me, but it just does: the bird's nest. Tucked away in a corner under my deck, there it was. Frayed pieces of straw sticking out like arrows announcing that I'm here, asshole, and there's nothing you can do about it. That summer, this mother bird perched on her nest gave me the dirtiest looks a bird could get and made me feel uncomfortable in my own backyard. Opening the gate to the courtyard, I slowly peered around the side of his corner, like a thief, and after spotting his sharp eyes looking at me, I cautiously tiptoed into the courtyard, still feeling as if I was in a stick. -up and she was the one with the gun. It was a robin, and as far as I knew, robins were not known to swoop. Needless to say, it was a tense summer for gardening. I had to accommodate her schedule, watching when she left the nest, carefully working in the garden, and keeping my eyes peeled for the guards watching the fence. I couldn't take any risks. It was a force I didn't want to reckon with. The babies came and flew, and mom took the lead, leaving behind a stale, well-used nest. My dear husband, the saint that he is, having heard enough of my complaints over the weeks, was more than happy to remove the empty nest to soothe my frayed nerves. At that moment, I vowed to keep my patch of grass free of nests. Spring 2010 arrived and I was ready. I had anchored a pot loaded with rocks where the robin's nest had been the year before. Take ...... middle of paper ...... it's SO MUCH! So I pulled on what he had just dropped, turned off the water, went home and did a short but sweet victory dance. Looking at my booty through the window, I frothed in the moment. Mother Nature had nothing against me; I was in charge, or so I thought, until I spotted the same flea-bitten bird on the beam again. By pecking at my window, I tried to scare him. He looked in my direction and didn't flinch. So I raised the blind and shouted (yes, I shouted), “IT’S WAR NOW!” He flew towards the fence and, I'm sure, went off to get more materials to build with. And then it hit me: I had just shouted something threatening at a bird. Let me rephrase that, I had taken from my arsenal of lines from bad stand-up comics and thrown it at a six inch tall bird who was just trying to make a better life for his family . The bird won.