Prissy's Corner : Prissy's Corner #18 - Birdbrains by Dawn Munro |
Did you know that bird's brains are not "bird-brain" at all? I bet you didn't, because humans use that demeaning term for people who aren't very smart. But birds are smart. Maybe they're smarter than I gave them credit for too, I must admit. What I am about to tell you, you might find hard to believe, but I swear -- it's the gospel truth. Mommy's birds have found us. (You know she feeds them, right?) Well, the pigeon she wrote the hilarious poem about ("Love Shack") sat on the part of our air conditioner that juts outside, cooing when Mom was late putting out the seed. Then, when it didn't get the banquet it was expecting, it hopped onto the window sill. At first I thought it was just a coincidence, but that bird has done it every time Mommy is late since the beginning of April -- maybe sooner than that, but I didn't notice because I sleep a lot. Now it's time for my usual meandering... Did you know cats need to sleep a lot? We spend about 70% of our lives sleeping. But never mind that -- back to the birds. The sparrows have found us too. They sit in the tree outside our bedroom window and sing. Or maybe it's scolding. I'm a cat -- I don't speak bird. But they sure are bold for little birds. One sparrow sits in the closest branch to the window -- inches away from me, and I'm no slouch for a cat. I weigh about 22 pounds! But I guess I digressed again and forgot to tell you that I helped Mom write that poem about the pigeon -- that's why it's so funny. Mom's okay, but her humor is a bit dry sometimes. She doesn't play enough. That's what she used to say about me when I had those painful bladder stones. But of course, she didn't know I had stones, though she told the vet I looked uncomfortable a couple of times. I guess those stones take time to form well (and cause real symptoms). Anyway, I'll come back in a minute. I have to go and get some research now about birds and their brains. Oh, you think I didn't know that some of you are skeptics? Listen, I told you way back when I started this column that you humans do not sleep enough. We felines are smart because we do. So I will get the proof of what I'm telling you. Back in a tail twitch. Well, I'm back. I promised research results, and they're below, in the author's notes. Instead of including the boring stuff here, though, I found a forum I thought was quite a delight, so that's what I' sharing here. (You're welcome.) THavoc wrote: Quote: Birds are smart. They use tools, engage in social learning, plan for the future, and do a variety of other things that were once thought to be exclusively the stuff of primates. Schizoid wrote back to him: Quote: Get back to me when they can do physics experiments like cats can. To which THavoc replied: They do. Of course, not to be outdone, Schizoid referred to earlier in their conversation, when THavoc said PNAS shows size doesn't matter: That's what I keep telling my girlfriend! Then some other countries are heard from-- skinlo (Smack-Fu Master, in training) Quote: I wonder what would happen if you could somehow modify the human brain to have the same density of a birds brain? Ostracus Quote: What do you think they're using all those neurons for? trapper answers: (a Wise, Aged Ars Veteran) Quote: We'd probably die since our brains would be marbles rolling around inside of our skulls. S_T_R pipes up: Quote: If birds are so smart, then why can't they stop me from eating them by the bucket? (I'll show myself out) The forum didn't say who posted this: And stay out! I, Prissy, thought it quite a good question. (*Cheshire grin.* Pardon the feather dangling from my lip.) Love Shack (the poem I told you about, by Dawn, AKA Mommy) (and if you REALLY want to have some fun, play the video below it WITH it and sing the poem AS LYRICS - it works - honest) A pigeon has adopted me - I don't know what to do. It waits for me each morning, and man, that bird can poo! You see, I feed the sparrows, and began to use my stoop. A snowfall hides the bread crumbs, but I didn't think of poop when I decided I would bring the birds up to my door. But now this pigeon eats the seeds and crumbs, and then wants more. It's cold outside, and I feel bad - the pigeon sits and waits. It snowed and still it sat there, so I sorted through my crates and taped some plastic to a box. Inside I placed some weight - at least it's some protection for this creature I can't hate. In blowing snow and icy wind, no longer spooked by me, it fixes me with loving gaze, its head cocked trustingly. I think perhaps the pigeon thinks it's found an easy mark. I'm pigeon-holed as sucker - help! These turds are no darn lark! The pigeon thinks I like it, and its feathers spread disease. So if you have an answer, won't you share it, pretty please, 'cuz even worse than feathers are the pigeon's deadly poop. Bacteria in birdie crap now lives upon my stoop, and what if this cute pigeon coos to call a pretty mate? Before long there could be a dozen pigeons I can't hate! The doorway to my home could be awash in pigeon poop! I guess I never should have made a cardboard pigeon coop.
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Dawn Munro
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