Good-bye Mr. Chirps
At one time, the “IN” thing was to have a chirping bird ornament hanging among the boughs of your Christmas tree. Most people would hang this gold or silver plastic, filigree-like ball where they could reach the on-off switch and entertain visitors when they visited their home during the holidays. It was powered by batteries or by electric plug in and played a recording of a bird song. Well, not actually a song, but a series of a single note monotonous chirps. CHIRP. CHIRP. CHIRP.
I was so glad when the Christmas season was over and the mechanical birds were laid to rest in storage boxes for at least a year. Longing for the silence, I would be free from the freaky, phantom-feathered friends, but sadly, it was not be.
My wife, Cindy and I were shopping in Connellsville, Pennsylvania. We climbed the back steps into the McCrory’s five and dime store. As we neared the top of the stairway we were greeted by the gloriously annoying twitter of a bird ball that had somehow escaped interment and was still free. It wasn’t waiting until the next Christmas holiday season.
I clenched my teeth and finished the climb into the sales floor. I began to hunt down the canary-like Caruso. Through the maze of merchandise laden aisles, I followed the siren’s song. I was on a “seek and destroy” mission, but I knew that if I shut it off, it would provide only temporary relief. I was sure some diligent store employee would notice the silence and return the songbird’s tweeting. I altered my mission slightly.
My wife had just started her shopping spree and I was sure there was at least another half hour for her to look. I couldn’t stand being cooped up for so long a period of time listening to the screeching of the mechanical monster.
When I found it, the silver egg was perched on a pyramid of plastic bird seed sacks. It proudly announced that there were seeds for his wild companions for sale. I circled the display. Nonchalantly, I meandered around it in ever narrowing circles, watching for employees that might be eyeballing me. One more pass-by and I lowered the boom. Actually, I lifted a bag of seed and then lowered the boom. In one swift movement, I dropped a plastic bag of seed on top of it, smothering it between the layers of seed. The loud, offending opera went from a Chirp, Chirp, Chirp, to a chirp, chirp, chirp that could barely be heard a yard away.