Dear Birds,

I realize that you are all madly in love and busy with spring procreation, but how on earth can it be that there are 238720987529384723 different species of you outside, competing for the loudest and most obnoxious, deafening song? This is Canada. You were supposed have frozen to death and I'll be damned if I've even seen ONE penguin quietly rolling it's egg anywhere. Just raccoons, squirrels and bazillions of twitty birds. It's so unfair.

Now don't get me wrong, Birds of my neighborhood, I love birds as much as the next guy- but I have to admit that am forced to consider constructing a Vlad the Impaler-esque plastic bird arrangement on my front lawn so that you can write letters to your neighborhood bird association- complaining of my hateful display, demanding that something be done with your little bird petition to make it more livable around here for you. Then, when the letter is finally processed by the bird bureaucracy and slow moving legal system due to the uphill battle you'll have to fight against social stigma regarding Bird tolerance, so much time will have passed that you'll all have given up and moved to my arch nemesis's neighborhood instead to drive THEM insane enough to burn their own house down just to make you go away, (killing 2 birds with one stone) because too bad, Birds, you have no human rights. Just the flimsy bird rights which that hippy, Pamela Anderson fights fruitlessly for.

After all, the bottom line is that you're all delicious on toasted paninis with a little rosemary, sea salt and olive oil and your bird babies are just the right size to fit into tasty little birdy samosas. I might even make a little cash if I set up a stand at the bus stop selling these baby bird samosas. I'm thinking $2 each would be a good price. $3 if I decorate them by having your little birdy legs poke out of the pastry edges with little tiny unstylish shoes on.

Love

Chelle.