"I hate it when you do that."

"What," Dave asks.

"You know what, don't play stupid."

"Hey you, the writer, why are you putting words in my mouth?"

The dove aptly called Dave challenges the writer who is typing these words into his mouth. But quickly the heated argument with Mary continues. The weird writer/photographer is forgotten for a moment.

"I hate it when you do this," Dave tries to stifle the argument.

"Can you just not," Mary says and starts to clean herself. The tension in the avocado tree is palpable. Almost as viscous as the oil from the avocado seeds.

Enters Sheila, the Laughing Dove.

"Is that her?" Mary's voice echos.

"Dave, is that her?"

Sheila, the Laughing dove, looks up completely unaware of what is happening. Living on the branch just above the fighting couple, she tries to stow away her shopping before the others see. She doesn't want them to notice the extra bar of chocolate. Self-consciously, she walks away without even noticing that she was part of the argument that went on below her.

"Ugh Dave, look at me!"

Dave tried to look away as yet another of his mistresses flew past. From another part of the garden, he can see her, but can Mary? Look away, look away Dave! he shouts at himself in his thoughts.

Nicole flies over the heated argument, almost burning her feet. Seeing the almost ripe avocados, she does not pay much attention to Dave. She cannot stand him.

"These avos," she murmurs and looks at them with envy. "So shiny and pretty. How I wish for one!"

"I'll just carry on then," Mary says to a Dave that is already asleep, again! She cannot even today, she just cannot. This is getting too much for her sanity.

Meanwhile down in the main garden, a symphony of shouting friends scream at each other for no particularly good reason. Just because. Fred the Mousebird is looking for his crew, where are they? He looks around, but he is the only one. Is he early or is he late? He never knows! What a way to start the new year, he thinks.

"Hey man," the Cape weaver shouts. No one knows to whom. "Hey man," he shouts again.

"Come on man, just listen," but no one listens. Frustration builds in his small body. "Please," he tries again.

"DO I NEED TO SHOUT," even the feathers in his neck stand up straight. Why don't they listen, he wonders and cannot understand. Understanding is something that always slips his fingers.

Nicole, coming from the avocado tree ponders the others shouting. Her mind is small, but her heart is big. She wonders what all the shout is about.

There she hears the weaver, mindlessly shouting looking for a partner in the shouting.

"I sure want those avos," she murmurs to herself again. The others continued their shouting.

"What is all this shouting about!" Another shouts from behind some leaves. No one can see him, he guesses. "What is the meaning of this all!"

"I just cannot, for the love of..." then he flies away. The constant bickering and shouting are causing him a headache. Today of all days!

Perched high above all the noise, the Cape white-eye, the cool philosopher dude, sits and ponders the situation. What are these fools on about? He wonders. Shadows on the wall, he thinks. "Do they know they are chasing shadows and empty fleeting pleasures?" He whispers so that no one can hear him.

"Oh well," he thinks and jumps to another stick to look at things closer. "Might as well join them," philosophy forgotten.

Post Scriptum Thingy

This was just a fun write-up story or musing. When I stood in the garden listening to them shout, I could imagine various conversations going on. How wonderful would it not be to gain access to their private worlds? In any case, I hope you enjoyed the fun imagined conversations. What do you think they said?

All the images were taken with my Nikon D300 with a Tamron 300mm zoom lens. The words were copied verbatim from the birdie birds even though I cannot be trusted to know bird-speak really. I think it was what they said. In fact, I have to admit, I placed the words in their mouths. Stay safe, and happy birding!