DC is having some very springlike weather this weekend, with temperatures in the 60s, cherry blossoms budding and alternating sunshine and showers that make everything nice and green. I'm pretty sure there's at least one cold snap left for the season, so I'm not getting too comfortable just yet, but it's nice to know warmer weather is on the way.
One sure sign of spring is the renewed presence of little songbirds, or, to put it more precisely, little songbirds boinking. Those shameless little birdies are everywhere -- twittering about, cavorting in mid-air, displaying on the sidewalk. Horny little devils, those sparrows and such.
Which I mention only because I came across a sad sight in the driveway of OneTwoThreeFour Mass Ave today. Two little house sparrows, a male and female, lay squashed along the curb, where people usually idle their cars for short-term parking. The first thought I had upon seeing them was, "Gross! I almost stepped in that!" The second thought was, "Man, that must have been some hot sparrow sex."
I mean, think about it. Neither one of these little things had the presence of mind to move out of the way of whatever was bearing down on them. Surely, you'd think at least one of them would have been all "Um, Herb, I hate to be a noodge, but can we move it over to the landscaping?" Nope. Such was their wanton abandon that one second they were busy propagating the next batch of sparrows-to-be, and the next they were smooshed under a Prius, or whatever. They probably never knew what hit them.
Which, when you think about it, really isn't a bad way to go. Well played, little sparrows. Well played.
Now if the maintenance people could kindly scrape them off the driveway, because, honestly, I almost stepped in them again coming home tonight, and it's kind of disgusting.
Robyn
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