My question of the day: When do you quit having jobs, especially unpleasant ones?
At my ripe age I figured I was through with jobs, having only aspirations to sit, drink iced tea, write when I feel like it, walk the dogs, take naps. You know, doing things you do because you want to. No pressure, no deadlines, no stress.
My ‘figuring’ got derailed this week when I found pigeons roosting in the open-air hallway to our condo. And since I am the only permanent resident occupying one of the six units in our building, action was required.
I sent out a message to the other owners, who live in various parts of the world: one in Mexico City, a couple in Canada, one in Idaho, one in Houston, and another person who lives in San Miguel.
The message was a query: Do we get rid of the pigeons now or wait until the eggs have hatched, the poop has permanently decorated the walls and floor, and the birds feel secure in their new living quarters?
The votes were mixed, leaving me to decide. Workmen are still in the building so I requested the nest be removed, which required climbing a not so stable ladder. I have retired from ladder climbing, and that is a job I refuse to undertake.
The birthing room is now gone, one egg found and disposed of (okay, so I’m now a bird killer), and relief filled my heart. Problem solved, or so I thought.
I heard the lamenting coo from the sad parents when I returned from a walk and made eye contact with the couple staring at me from what had been their newly decorated nursery.
Worry not, I had been told. Pigeons will find another home and have more eggs.
Three days later, this Ma and Pa are rebuilding after mighty human hands had wiped out their living quarters. It reminds me of people who lose everything in a flood or tornado and immediately decide construction in the same locale is a smart thing to do.
My new unwanted job has suddenly become one of watchwoman and eviction commando for these stubborn birds.
I’m attempting to be kind, gentle, and compassionate as I toss pebbles, and shout obscenities in my attempts to make them realize there are safer and less hostile environments to raise babies.
Added to these new tasks of watching and enforcing is searching the Internet on how to rid one’s domicile of unwanted flying varmints. The solutions are many, most ineffective, but what else do I have to do, except drink iced tea, take naps, and toss stones in the air?
The pigeon invasion continues…and they are winning! I’m wondering if the proposed $15 an hour wage will be honored here in Mexico.