It Was One Wet and Very Wild Time

There could be only one reason our birdbath was always empty. There must be a hole in it. I fill it three times a day and soon there is not enough water left in it to drown a gnat.

However, I thought it might be possible that the birds are taking so many baths they are causing our water bill to shoot through the roof.

Sure enough, I looked out the kitchen window one day last week to see a dozen starlings standing on the edge of the bath waiting their turn. And there they were. Two of the medium-sized speckled birds taking a bath at the same time. And they were splashing up a storm.

Then a third starling slipped into the rapidly dwindling pool and started flapping its wings like crazy.

Mystery solved.

However, the drama wasn’t over. Soon, a fourth starling joined the first three and before long, a fifth guy jumped in. It began to look like a typical Friday night hottub party without the bikinis and the booze.

But my jaw dropped when Starling No. 6 squeezed itself into what was left of the bath and I could hardly see the bathers for the plumes of water they were generating while another six stood on the edge of the bath, waiting their turn.

When the bathers all suddenly left as though they were late for a meeting, I went out to inspect the damage. There were several feathers in the remaining water which was so sparse it was completely gnat friendly. And there was a whole lotta poop.

I cleaned the whole thing out and prepared for the next big communal party.

It’s a living.

©2022 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.