Tag: Chirp

Birds Don’t Sing in Beverly Hills

The first sign of spring for most people in America is Robin Red Breast. Hearing his little tweets and songs make one feel the cold and darkness of winter is past and one can look forward to a warm spring and fun summer.

In my area of Beverly Hills one receives no such hope for the birth of the coming seasons. I’m not quite sure why it’s the case but it’s rare I’ve been hearing birds singing at all. Yes, I know you all think I’m going deaf.

However, that is not the case for while watching the Masters Tournament at Augusta the other day, I was taken by how vibrant the birds’ songs were when everyone quieted down to let the golfers take a shot. Yes, I heard the birds chirping and cheering on their favorite golfers loud and clear.

Even with a preponderance of trees everywhere in Beverly Hills it seems that the bird population chooses to remain closed mouth and simply exist on the down low. Why?

I of course have no scientific reasons to offer for this occurrence, but of course I have some suspicions about why the little winged and usually vocal creatures choose silence in this high-profile town.

First, I’d have to guess it is a result of their inability to sing for long periods of time and ingest the pollution. After a few coughs I’d imagine most would simply give up and stay silent.

Second it might be the fact they haven’t been able to secure an agent and it is for this reason they choose not to use their talents without any compensation. A bird deserves a worm or two for their efforts. And I assure you Beverly Hills is crawling with them. Worms I mean.

Third is the fact that perhaps because so few birds choose to sing, there is no peer pressure to do so. I mean if everyone is doing it than the other birds might feel left out by not joining in. It seems quiet breeds quiet and the lack of tweeting is not such a surprise after all.

Fourth I believe it’s possible the bird population here may be the most depressed in America. I only say this because if the vibe all around them is human beings walking around like zombies touting positive thinking and then hurrying off to their therapist, it could contribute to the negative, insecure vibes the birds are feeling.

Fifth may be that it’s difficult to be heard above the sirens horns honking and yelling obscenities out car windows one witnesses each day. This is not lost on the birds. It’s possible at one point they sought to sing but couldn’t raise their voices above the craziness going on below.

Sixth, maybe like so many others in this state most of the birds have left for Florida because it’s far too expensive to live here. Perhaps all the craziness entailed living in this insane asylum with palm trees has finally caused them to reach their breaking point. Then of course squatters may have inhabited their nests when they returned and they’re all in court trying to get their little homes back. Or could it be they are simply spending the day shopping?

As someone who always loved hearing birds sing, I find it a bit depressing to face the silence.

There was once a book by Rachel Carson called Silent Spring in which she warned of impending environmental issues.

Could we have reached the point that the birds are thus affected?

I don’t think so because my friends in Michigan claim there is a great deal of happy twilling from the birds there right now. And I do miss that.

So I suppose we must return to California. I can only speak for Beverly Hills, but I must say it is a quiet Spring around here.

Beverly Hills birds although we received an abundance of rain this year seem as yet unsatisfied with the bounty nature provided.

Everyone but me it seems held the attitude there was too much rain.

I however disagree wholeheartedly. Coming from Michigan where Spring and summer sported the colors of OZ with vibrant greens and colorful flowers everywhere, it has been a culture shock for me to see the brownish hue of the trees here.

The little bit of water they usually receive is not nearly enough to serve up lush gorgeous hues, but instead brownish dry looking semi green colors.

This year however after all the rain I’m finally seeing true rich, dark leaves brimming with life and vibrancy.

So I’ll side with nature on this issue and too bad for those who were inconvenienced by the rain.

I’ve tried calling to the birds and explaining my desire to hear their songs, but only a few even responded to my pleas.

It just doesn’t seem right to be sitting outdoors and hear nothing but cars and sirens without the melodic tweet of a nearby bird.

If I am disappointed, and perhaps even making too much of the lack of music available from our feathered friends, please forgive me. I imagine you could get an app for your phone of birdsongs. Not the same. Like buying a candle to get your favorite scent and realize they all smell like cheap perfume.

Living in Michigan we were blessed with four seasons. And each one was highly anticipated.

Still after a hard winter, and it seems they were colder and harder when I was a child, we eagerly awaited spring.

The end of cold snowy days and no more dark gloomy overcast mornings. Now one could look forward to sunshine, tulips and of course robins and their friends singing a chorus of beautiful melodies. Their songs announced that yes, once again Spring has come and the beauty of color and light reappears. They were not only the bearer of songs, but proof of rebirth, new hope and life continuing after winter’s darkness.

So now when I do occasionally hear that courageous little song bird here in Beverly Hills, chirping its little heart out to announce, “Hey everyone it’s Spring,” I stop, listen and hold their song inside my heart until I am once again blessed to hear another.

I’m Innocent I swear it; You’ll Thank Me Later

I’m writing this blog from my jail cell in Beverly Hills. I’m not complaining, the service is great and the food is from five-star restaurants. Even the police in BH understand that it’s all about fine dining. They also provide Ugg slippers and the silkiest Frette sheets in here.

I think everyone should get arrested in Beverly Hills. It’s better than most people live.

But as usual I digress. By now you’re all wondering what I did to deserve all this opulence.

Well, you see it was actually all very innocent, and I still don’t know why they’re making such a fuss.

Apparently, something about me being made an example or some such tripe. But I’m guiltless and justified, and I know that everyone on a jury will absolutely see things my way. I believe they’ll not only set me free, but award me a medal to boot!

It all started the other night at three in the morning. I was once again peacefully sleeping after my two-thirty a.m. bathroom run when it began.

I knew immediately when I heard the sound there was going to be trouble. I also knew from experience there was no denying I’d have to do something quickly before all hell broke loose.

I pulled the blankets aside and walked to the closet where I keep my weapon and then crept very slowly.

I had to be stealth because for some reason it likes to toy with its victims.

I waited. Chirp…a few minutes went by and again, chirp. Then it began coming faster. Now the chirps were louder and a minute apart.

Chirp, chirp. Defying me, goading me into a fight. Another few minutes of this torture and I would lose my mind and jump out a window.

The offender was smirking knowing it had the edge against this short person now looking up at its evil face.

Ha ha it thought. You can do nothing, nothing to stop me now.

I held the broom handle firmly and lifted it over my head.

“Chirp, chirp, chirp” it barked defiantly.

I aimed and with all my strength I banged it.

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp it responded. Laughing that evil laugh it then started chirping faster and faster.

I lifted my weapon again and started to beat it until the battery flew out and it was silent. Michael Jackson must have written Beat It while he was killing a smoke alarm.  

I waited, nothing. All was quiet. Still attached to the ceiling bent and broken I

I picked up the battery and gave my nemesis the proverbial na na na na na.

Then after calming down with a few mediation breaths, I peacefully fell back asleep.

I knew I had to get someone to replace its vile battery, and I honestly planned to do it in the morning, but before I could even get my make up on, the bell rang.

“Who is it?”

“First Alarm. We’re here to see you about casualty 7360042.”

“Huh?”

“We need to see you immediately about 7360042.”

“Is this those television guys who play pranks on people?”

“No. Madam. We’re from First Alarm and we need to see you. Please open the door and let us in. We believe we have a victim in there.”

“A victim?”

“Yes, number 7360042.”

I dialed the Beverly Hills police and told them someone was trying to break into my place.

“Just a minute,” I called out. “I’m not dressed.”

“Well please hurry, we may still be able to save it.”

“Okey, dokey, sure,” I answered.

The police were still on the phone with me and asked if the robber had entered yet.

“No, they are still outside the door and I’m sure they are insane.”

“The officers are pulling up now, they’ll be in shortly. Just stay on the phone with me.”

I heard the door open and footsteps in the hall. There was talking and then I suddenly heard a knock at the door.

Beverly Hills police, please open the door.

It’s so nice that they said please.

So anyway, I opened the door and the policeman said, “I understand there is a victim in here, may we look around?”

“Huh?”

“Is there a dead body in here?”

“Of course not, look around,” I stammered.

The guy from First Alarm walked into the hall and pointed at the ceiling. “There, Officer, there it is, number 7360042.”

“Are you going to press charges?” the Officer asked.

“Absolutely, I want this murderer arrested. Do you understand this alarm could save your life? And this is how you reward its caring, comforting nature?” He asked me.

“Or it could drive me into a psycho ward,” I countered.

The policeman shrugged and placed the cuffs on me. By the way those bracelets hurt and they are definitely not from Cartier.

I went into a state of shock and didn’t recover until they put me in front of a camera for a mug shot. I begged to at least put on some lipstick after they refused my glam squad request.

They did let me fix up a bit because after all this is Beverly Hills and we’re civilized here.

So now I’m sitting in the cell watching my flat screen TV and waiting for my unbelievably expensive Beverly Hills lawyer to bail me out.

I see him enter and a policeman open the door.

“What the hell?” he asks smiling broadly.

“I’m so happy I amuse you, but I know these people are crazy. It’s a damn smoke alarm,” I whimpered.

“I think I can make it go away. There is a new law that protects you from nuisances, including annoying chirping in your home. I’ll use that and have you out soon. Although you look pretty cozy in here.”

Ten minutes later he was back and the policeman let me out of the cell.

I will definitely miss those Frette sheets.

I was shocked when I left the station and there was a crowd outside carrying signs.

CHIRP and DIE. Free the Victims of First Alarm. Someone had Beat It playing on their iphone. Kill the beast! Norma for Governor. Someone held a newspaper headline reading Newsom Claims Smoke Alarm Chirping Speeds Hair Growth.

People were snapping pictures and I was grateful I’d worn black and applied lipstick.

So now I’m at the Beverly Hills City Council meeting. Can you believe this? They are giving me the key to the City.

I guess most of them have had the same experience with that annoying thing and that’s why they passed the new law.

It’s called the anti-chirp amendment and I understand Congress is thinking of enacting it nationally. Lord knows those Bozos have nothing else to do.

So anyway, now I’m some kind of local hero. Geez, all I did was smack the life out of an evil smoke alarm designed to run out of battery power after midnight.

I guess it’s in its DNA.

But I feel vindicated because First Alarm now has a new product that has a ten-year battery. At least I won’t have to hear the damn chirping for another ten years. But don’t worry, I’ve got my broom ready just in case.