10. Birdwatching

Birdwatching is a very convenient sport. I do it a lot. No equipment, no sweat. There are three kinds of birds I see all the time: crows, little brown birds, and hummingbirds.

The crows make the most noise. Loud and big and Boss, or so they think. Crows remind me of Mike's gang when they get going. Something sets them off and pretty soon they are yelling and pushing each other, creating a ruckus. If they keep it up too long, shopkeepers come and tell them to shutup. If they don't shutup, pretty soon a cop comes along. This is not good for the larger community, which includes me, so the damn crows need to Keep It Down!

The little brown birds work all the time. They go nuts building nests, like the world will end if they don't get enough string or twigs, which I guess it might for little brown birds. They are the PTA parents of bird town, living their lives to make sure their kids do what they're supposed to do. Sometimes they are stupid and build a nest where any cat could get it. Then they scream like maniacs when the cat tries, dive bombing the poor cat until it decides kibble is fine. Unless it is a street cat with no kibble, then adios bird children.

Hummingbirds are sweet freaks on speed. I relate to them because they are small and loners. You never see two hummingbirds, definitely no gangs of hummingbirds. Chirping and singing they do not do. Sometimes their wings wap the air so hard, it sounds like bees buzzing. I think this is the sound of being very, very busy, or maybe pissed off. Hummingbirds don't bother anybody and nobody should bother them. Cats don't, dogs don't even see them, and I see them all the time.

"Hey, man, check it out," someone whispers. "It's Betty."

"Shhh."

I hear footsteps.

"Here Betty, Betty, Betty."

Har dee har. I recognize that clever voice.

"Here Bitty!" And now the chorus. "Here Bitty, Bitty, Bitty!"

Bushes rustling, big clumping feet tripping. It's time for the horn. My, how it comes in handy for just such occasions. I take a deep breath and give it my best blow.

BURRRRAAAAHHH!!!!!

"Agh! Owwww!" Crash! Somebody goes down.

heh heh

"Yow, man!" Mike stumbles out of the bushes with his hands over his ears.

"Jesus, Betty," Jack whines from the ground. Gary steps over him.

"You didn't have to do that," Gary gets in my face.

"Sure she did," says Mike, giving Jack a hand up. "She's Betty!"

They all bust out laughing, brush off the twigs. Ha ha ha ha. This goes on for a while. Hyena rituals. I'm not sure what's next.

"Hey, lemme see that." Mike grabs my horn.

I brace myself for a loud one, but instead he winds up and throws the horn deep into the bushes where my cart cannot go. I use all my will power to keep my face a mask. I do not care about that horn. It was taking up too much space. I don't know where it came from.

Mike is staring at me with that mean grin, waiting for me to crack. He pats my head.

"Aw, poor Betty gonna cry?"

He makes his ugly sad clown face, crossing his eyes about an inch from my face. My stomach hurts a lot, but I do not cry.

Gary lobs a pine cone at Jack, and they start laughing and playing basketball around my cart. I hold my breath forever, and finally they lose interest and leave, shoving each other off the path as they go.

"Hey, quit it!"

"Yeah, make me!"

"Shutup!"

"Bye, bye, Betty!" Mike waves at me. "Luego!"