Bird Days

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Bird Days

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

It was a warm, sunny day, and I left my front door wide open for fresh air. I then busied myself with the chores of the day. Suddenly, I heard the sweetest musical note coming through the open door. I looked out to see a rosy colored, male house finch sitting on the hanging begonia planter. He was apparently calling to his mate, because she quickly came flying in to join him. They buried themselves in the middle of the pot, under the leaves, wriggling and chattering, and, finally, they flew away. I wondered, “Are they planning to use the planter for a nesting site? Should I allow them to demolish the flowers, knowing also that they can leave an untidy mess on the porch? The birds may be back any time now with building materials, so I’ll have to decide quickly.”

While I was trying to make a decision about whether to encourage or discourage such a venture, Mother Nature solved the problem. The sky grew dark. It thundered, and the rain came with the wind. Lightning streaked through the atmosphere, and the rain just poured down.

Apparently, the birds found a sanctuary more suitable than my front porch and did not return to nest in the hanging begonia planter. They only came to the feeding station out back to share in the daily ration of sunflower seeds and, of course, to give me much enjoyment in watching them.

I’m what they call, “a birder.”

(For more short stories by Angie Brown, click HERE)

Are you done yet, Jimmy?

English: I photographed this picture from a pu...Are you done yet, Jimmy?

James R. Aist

When I was a young boy growing up in Arkansas, my family and friends were accustomed to calling me by the nickname “Jimmy.” This true story happened about 12-15 years ago, after my wife, Janet, and I had been married for several years. Sometimes Janet, too, would call me “Jimmy”, as an endearing form of “Jim”.

Well, one Saturday afternoon we were shopping in a mall in upstate New York when I sensed the urge to answer Mother Nature’s call, which she placed by dialing  2, if you get my drift. So, off we went to the little hallway tucked inconspicuously out of sight, where one could find the “Restrooms”. There I entered the Men’s Room and chose a stall on the left, just past the second stall where a little boy had encamped before me. We were the only two people in the restroom at the time. I moved into the third stall and began to take care of business, while Janet waited patiently in the hallway for me to re-appear.

About the time I was going to put the finishing touches on the process, a woman, sounding just like Janet, poked her head into the Men’s Room and called out “Are you done yet, Jimmy?” At this, I was both startled and dumbfounded. In an instant, thoughts began to race through my mind in rapid-fire succession: “Was that Janet? It sounded just like her. But why would she do such a thing? Should I say something? But what if it wasn’t her? Then I would be embarrassed. What would the little boy next to me think? Can I think of something clever and witty to answer back with?” Then, just as I was about to say something in reply, the little boy next to me called out “I’m almost finished, Mommy.”

In an instant, another flood of rapid-fire thoughts began rushing through my mind: “Man, that was a close call! Dodged a bullet that time. That was hilarious! Can’t wait to get out of here and tell Janet what just happened. Hope I can quit laughing uncontrollably long enough to tell her.” As I recall, she laughed harder that I did.

(For more articles on TRUE TALES, click HERE)