why, don't you know? they're twitterpated [a tree]

[a bluejay]

Twitterpated, the lot of them. Every, last, single, one!

Mrs. Bluejay had had enough. They stalked every tree, they paired beneath them, alongside them, in front of them, everywhere. Her little heart could no longer take such action, could no longer be subject to such private things that should be kept in the nest. Things men and ladies should take care of alone and not for the world to see.

It will be to no surprise to you all that, Autumn, is Mrs. Bluejay’s least favorite season. Sure the air is cool, crisp and clean. The trees are beautiful with sunset colors painting their leaves. But it brought one thing she could not stand for, one thing she could not take, mating. Right in front of her eyes! Right In front of the children!

No, not anymore, she had to move.

It is with little regret that she packed up her last nest and took off without a backwards glance. It is with great relief and joy that she finds an empty tree, right here in the middle of the Meadow.
It was perfect (or so she thought)

Within the week some saucy so-and-so is sidling up to her house. Creeping much too closely to the perfectly placed boughs, ogling the bark far longer than necessary (or appropriate mind you), TOUCHING the delicate embrace of branches.

Then, to make matters worse, the tree was- was it touching the horse back?!

“No, excuse me!” She chirps, shrill and insistent. “That’s not how this works, that’s not how any of this works.” Not another one, not another tree gone. She was just making herself comfortable too! No, she had to end this before it went too far.

@[A Tree]

[A Tree]

Oh dear.

 

Miss Buttah had JUST gotten comfortable with her new studly beau.

 

She did NOT need for her new bubbling relationship to be wrecked already!

 

“Who’s makin’ such a racket?!” she yelled, removing one limb long enough from her beautiful boyfriend to swat at the annoying sound.

 

Luckily, she stopped it RIGHT before it actually smacked the bird.

 

Oh crap, she thought.

 

It was the bluejay.

 

The lovely bluejay she had FINALLY enticed to live with her. Miss Buttah had jealously watched it visit tree after tree after tree before the bird finally plopped down with her. (Remember what she just almost admitted in her other post? I know, doesn’t make sense, but let’s just go with it.)

 

Keeping her watch on the horse (again, don’t ask me through what means), she quickly enveloped her branches and leaves around the chirpy (but quite attractive) bird and nest.

 

“Shhh darlin’, quiet down now,” she whispered to the bird, banking on the inability of horse to understand bird and thus keep her dirty little secret safe. Or so she hoped.

 

Chirp chirp. Neigh neigh. Rustle rustle.

 

This was getting messy.