In Hollywood, they want to put pigeons on the pill. The pigeon population is out of control there so the city honchos want to put a birth control drug in the bird feeders. It will cost about 60 grand a year. Apparently, the "Just Say Coo" campaign was a flop. Across the country, in New Jersey, it's not pigeons but geese that are making too much whoopee...as Bob Eubanks would've said on the old Newlywed Game. The geese have taken over parks, ball-fields and golf courses leaving their calling cards everywhere. So, in Jersey, too, they are going to slip the geese an anti-romance mickey. How will they pay for it? Just put it on the bill! The bill! I love geese jokes but I hope it didn't bring you down. Down! Goose-down! Whew! That was fun. Anyway, these two stories put me in mind of my mother. The bird part, not the birth control part. Although, my dad always used to tell me that I was a good example of why birth control is important.

No, when I think of birds, I think of my mother. Living on Lake Wisconsin, looking out of the picture window, she has gotten into many ongoing relationships with our feathered friends. She likes to see the hummingbirds come up for a slurp of that red liquid. She enjoys watching the little yellow finches come to call. She even likes the rather drab sparrows. However, there are some members of the flying family she has grown to rather dislike.

She finds that blue jays and crackles and cardinals are a little too bossy and pushy. They eat everything and get nasty doing it. Unfortunately, since we all figured she liked birds so much, over the years the family has given her lots of little knick-knacks and Christmas decorations and other gifts with those very birds represented. Especially, cardinals. I think she has enough of that stuff because, now, she has actually started to molt, herself.

Not too long ago, a heron flew up from the lake and perched on the railing of the deck. She carefully approached the window to close the drapes just in case the prehistoric-looking creature decided to try and crash through into the living room. Just as she did so, another gangly fellow arrived and the two started to fight. It was a very light-weight bout. Long, skinny legs were kicking. Wings were flapping. Beaks were pecking. Feathers were everywhere. My mom is pretty sure the melee was over a woman. The birdy battle went on for quite some time. Finally, the dueling duo disappeared. Later, they popped up on Jerry Springer and settled everything.

Another time, my mom was confronted out on the lawn by a giant turkey. At first glance, she shouted "Oh, Joel, what a surprise..." then realized it wasn't me but a real turkey. Now, turkeys are not the most attractive birds in the world...what with that waddle hanging off their heads and all. Then, again, who am I to talk. The only reason you don't see my waddle is that I wear wide neckties. Well, my mom and the turkey had a stare down. In the end, my mom went inside...deciding that, even if the silly Thanksgiving-Dinner-To-Be didn't have anything better to do than stand out in the yard without blinking...she did! After about an hour and half, she was finished!

In honor of my mother, we have one solitary little bird feeder hanging off a tree outside the dining room window. I like going out to fill it up every couple of days as it allows me to pretend I have a large spread requiring me to make the rounds, feeding and watering the livestock. We get lots of finches and sparrows. A few cardinals and blue jays. But, the other day, I went out to discover a great, big hawk sitting there. I don't think he was interested in the bird seed but, rather, in the little field mice that sometimes appear to eat what drops on the ground. The hawk gave me a long look, appearing to calculate the possibility of carrying me off the ground instead of the mouse. Then, he actually laughed, shook his head and, I swear, said "No way I'm lifting that!" before flying off.

I'll be keeping a close eye on our feeder now, after hearing about the birth control plans on both coasts. I have a feeling the Midwest is about to become one big swinging singles club for pigeons and geese. We will know things have gone too far when we encounter something as big as a goose, but cooing like a pigeon, looking for a statue on which to land.