To help out my dear friends, Sharon and Aaron on their 11th wedding anniversary, I told them I would come over this afternoon, whether they were home or not, to hang “scare tape” in their yard.
Scare tape is mylar ribbon that repels predatory birds by reflecting sunlight, thus scaring them off. When well-hung in a yard, it serves the dual purpose of festooning your patio as you and your guests sit on the veranda sipping lemonade, while, simultaneously warning birds of prey to “stay off my property.”
The reason for The Hanging of The Tape was due to an unfortunate and tragic event last week. Bucky the chicken was abducted by a mean, old hawk.
All who had met and gotten to know Bucky were quite shocked and saddened by the news of her untimely and sudden demise. As chickens go, and I haven’t met many, what Bucky lacked in stature, she more than made up for in personality and moxie.
Our friend, Roberta, had a surplus of scare tape in her garage after a recent avian experience of her own having to do with a persistent bird trying to commit a “B & E.”*
Sharon, Roberta, and I spent a recent afternoon hanging scare tape in the yard in an attempt to prevent future carnage. It was a solemn affair, as we were all still reeling from the sudden loss of Bucky, may she rest in peace.
A moment of silence for Bucky, please.
I arrived in the yard today, as promised, after yoga practice. I had forgotten my boots, so I slipped on a pair of shoes from “Sharon’s Outdoor Walking Amongst Backyard Crap Collection,” which, by the way, I think the Kardashian sisters should consider adding to their line of shoes at Dash, their store in New York.
I snipped the ribbon and tied it along the fishing line that Sharon had hung with care in a perfect grid only an artist of her caliber could conceive. (She also created the cartoon of my family for my blog, so check that out!)
As I am often reminded, I am short. Thankfully there was a step-stool available for my convenience so that I could tie the ribbon to the fishing line.
As I backed off the step ladder, I lost my balance (shocking, I know,) and fell butt-first into a kiddie pool frequented by the ducks in residence. Luckily, no ducks were harmed in this piece of non-fiction.
As I do on nearly a daily basis, I just sat there, laughing out loud. I was slightly upset that no one witnessed my magnificent backwards swan dive, but profoundly relieved that I had chosen to drive my car today, and not Richard’s.
So, Sharon, this should explain why your waterlogged shoes are up on the glass table under the pergola, and, the obvious lack of additional scare tape hanging in your yard.
I tried to continue the task at hand, but began to feel squishy, and not in a good way. I piled up the reusable grocery bags I keep in my car, and then placed my sweatshirt on top of them to keep my contaminated derrière from soiling the interior of my car.
And, I want you to know that I recently had my physical and am up to date on all my shots, so hopefully your fowl will not succumb to my foul.
I also hope I did not contract the quack.
I have showered, am boiling my clothes, and toying with the idea of taking another shower. I am a big believer in no crap left behind.
So, please enjoy your anniversary. I will come back another day to hang more tape when I’m feeling less flighty.
In the meantime, every two hours, Richard is checking me for signs of:
1. Foul mood (there’s always a possibility of that, duck crap, or no duck crap)
2. The uncontrollable urge to scratch at the ground with my feet
3. Brooding (see #1)
4. Excessive preening
5. Unusually daffy behavior (again, always a possibility)
6. Strutting (my stuff)
7. Finding me asleep with my head turned toward my back
8. An uncomfortable feeling of being cooped up
9. Involuntary arm flapping
10. Smacking him on the head, shouting, “Goose,” and running away.
*Beaking and entering
