What Happens in the Hedges ….

The problem was I wasn’t getting any and I was pissed off by those who were —- and the timing was dreadful, 6a.m. after a heavy night.

It wouldn’t have been so bad — in fact I probably wouldn’t have heard it at all —-if I hadn’t opened the house up before hitting the sack but the bureau had predicted gully breezes during the night, just the thing to cool the house down after the heatwave. So I heard it loudly and clearly. But what was it?

I had to get up and find out. Of course, soon as I go outside, the noise stops.

So I stand still. It starts again. Meek little noises and a furious flapping . It comes from the hedge. High up.

Hey! I call out. Hey?

Just then a head pops out, glaring at me as if I am the intruder and not it.

What the fuck are you staring at? He asks.

Now I’m not in the habit of speaking to pigeons even ones that speak to me first but this one clearly has an attitude.

I get the leaf blower. It isn’t a 44 magnum but it blows them right away.

That afternoon they’re at it again, he and his paramour, on the clothes line humping amongst all the clean washing.

Hey! I say. Hey!

He looks down , glaring at me. Don’t even think about it! He says.

You’re over the top, mate, way over the top. You need taking down a peg or two.

He groans. She groans. Even I groan at the gratuitousness of such a pun.

Ahh well, pigeons will be pigeons I say and head inside for a snooze.