Birds are growing on me. (Not literally. That would be terrifying.)

I hated birds when I was younger. I thought they were unpredictable, annoying, and flighty. (See what I did there? Do you see it?) My dad and I used to feed the seagulls french fries in the McDonald’s parking lot, but that was the only positive experience I had with feathery creatures growing up. We were safe in the air conditioned cabin of the pick-up truck. If a seagull pulled something shady, we could hightail it out of there. (See what I did again? Hightail? Like tailfeather? Like the tailfeather of a bird? Do you see it? Are you getting it?! Are you picking up what I’m putting down????)

ANYWAY, birds made me jump. As a jumpy person (read: person with anxiety), I didn’t need any more of that in my life. But I’ve changed.

First of all, birds are not a monolith, OKAY?! There are so many different kinds of birds. I’m sure a quick Google search would tell me exactly how many species there are, but I am not committed enough to this story to take it as far as a search engine. I do, however, have an identification book of Eastern Birds (thanks, Grandmom!) and it has many pages, meaning there are many different birds out there.

I like observing the birds. I like the way the woodpeckers travel up the trees like they’re walking up a spiral staircase. I like how the wrens diligently and cooperatively build their nests. I like reading about how different birds prefer different houses and locations. I like to think they have a little realtor bird who takes them around to see potential homes. “So this house was just put up this spring. It’s fresh on the market. I know you were looking for something a little bigger, but think about how close you are to that large pile of pine needles! Location, location, location.”

In addition to that, I’m jealous of them. There are so many things birds do that I wish I could do. I wish I could fly. I wish I could poop wherever I want and loudly squawk at approaching predators without social ramifications or consequences.

But do birds have to have babies once the nest thing is settled? Can they just chill in the nest alone, or with their significant other? Because the whole ‘flying out of the nest every minute, gathering some spiders, and flying back to deliver’ thing seems exhausting. Plus the babies never stop chirping. Are they not pleased with what they have been delivered? Did they want a grasshopper instead of a spider? Isn’t this process the human equivalent of going to the grocery store every single day? Where you had to make awkward small talk with your neighbor in the dairy aisle? Which was freezing, by the way, and you opted not to wear a bra because you were feeling free that day and didn’t think you’d see anyone, and now Chuck from down the street is seeing more than you want him to see? After all of that, you drive home, and the kids are yelling, “Mom I wanted the double stuffed oreos! No one eats the regular kind!” And then you drive back out to the grocery store, use more gas and energy and patience, almost get hit by someone texting and driving in the parking lot, etc., etc., over and over again…

What am I saying- birds aren’t tied down. They aren’t afraid to fall. They have babies, but they still travel. They have experiences. I like to imagine they lead rich lives. Lives filled with entertaining dinner parties featuring birdseed and weekend getaways at the lake. Give birds a chance, people. I’m glad I did.