"Eight Fringed Squawkers"
By Ross
"Ou-ouch!" L.A. County Firefighter Marco Lopez cried out in pain, as he was bird-beaked between the eyes. "What the–?!" he exclaimed further, as the vicious little feathered beastie came at him again...and again. Instinctively, both of his gloved hands went up to protect his face. It’s a good thing his legs were locked into the ladder rungs he was standing on, or he’d have fallen for sure...like the hose he’d just dropped.
"Watch it, will yah!" Chet Kelly called up from the base of the ladder, as the falling nozzle nearly clunked him on his helmeted noggin.
"Hey! I’m under attack up here!" the fireman, standing up under the steaming eaves of the two-storied dwelling they’d just saved, stated in his defense and kept right on flailing his arms, in a seemingly futile attempt to fend off his feathered foe.
"For cryin’ out loud, Marco, it ain’t a freakin’ California Condor!" his annoyed associate assured him. "It’s just an itty bitty little bird!"
"Yeah?! Well, it’s a mean little itty bitty bird!" Lopez expounded, sounding even more annoyed.
Kelly exhaled a derisive snort and started carting their charged line back up the ladder. "You want I should spray the ‘big bad birdie’ away?"
Marco totally ignored the Irishman’s taunting. He was too busy listening to another type of ‘squawking’. The fireman paused in his bird battle to look around...for the source of the sound. There, on the ledge of a window, directly below his ladder, in a nest fringed with fresh, green moss, were eight squawking babies. The little balls of fluff had just begun to ‘fledge’, for he could see little pin feathers protruding from their protective sheaths. He watched as the baby birds fluttered their wings and stretched their tiny little legs. Marco smiled, as a few of the little fluffballs even pretended to preen themselves. Only about a week or so old, the huddled babies still needed to be fed every 15 to 20 minutes. The fireman was being constantly reminded that he wasn’t the only one listening to their ‘hungry baby bird’ squawks. "You have a very courageous momma," Lopez realized aloud, as his undivided attention returned to his tiny–but tenacious--attacker.
"What’s my momma got ta do with any a’ this?" Kelly breathlessly inquired, as he climbed level and began dodging aerial assaults, himself.
"Not your momma," Marco corrected, "their momma."
Chet glanced down towards where his friend’s finger was pointing. "Ahhh...Ain’t they cute. Guess that explains psycho-bird, here, huh. Ouch! C’mon! Let’s go! There’s no fire extension up here, anyways. Just a little steam escaping from some air vents, is all," the Irishman quickly determined. And, speaking of escaping...Kelly dropped the heavy hose in his hands and rapidly began taking his leave.
"What’s the matter, Chet?" Lopez teased, as his colleague quickly disappeared down the ladder. "You’re not afraid of an itty bitty little bird..Are you?"
"Shut up and get down here," Kelly advised his snickering associate.
Marco waved his nemesis off one last time and began his own speedy descent.
Momma bird landed on the ledge beside her squawking offspring and fluffed her feathers out, as if to say, ‘And don’t come back!’
In the end, the ‘big, bad firemen’ were no match for the ‘big, bad birdie’.
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