There’s this big male cardinal who lives in my rhododendron. He’s not the problem. The problem are the loud, brash younglings who show up and try to muscle in on his territory. They start before dawn, screaming at the top of a tree, making up for their lack of style with sheer volume.

Plus they sound like fucking car alarms. The Big Boy has a gorgeous call, and perches on the fence between the houses to take advantage of the acoustics, and starts at least an hour after dawn because no lady wants to be woken up early by a fuckboy.

He must be back early this year because there’s only been one asshole bird who woke me up.