Yes, the birds.
I back my car into the driveway, and, even with the windows closed, I hear a loud din. At first I think it might be my car, but I can still hear it after cutting the engine. This is quite a feat since all of my windows are rolled up. Maybe it's the train, I tell myself. I live right on the tracks, so it's probably the commuter rail making its appearance, possibly even the Northeaster, which barrels through without stopping. I check out the crossing down the road and notice that the gates are not down.
Sometimes construction vehicles come by on their way to the nearby town yard. Also, the school buses park down the road in the opposite direction from the town yard, and idling buses sometimes sound louder than life. I don't see any other vehicles around, though.
As I exit my car, I notice the sound is much louder coming from the side of the house that is under construction (remodel) and empty. It takes me a few seconds to realize that the constant screeching sound is caused by crows -- hundreds of them -- in a tree. There are so many crows that bunches of them look like giant nests high up in the maple, but they are really clumps of birds. The birds are not really moving, but the sounds ... the vibrations in the air ... are powerful.
So powerful, in fact, that I flash back to the first time I saw Hitchcock's movie The Birds. Remember the scene with the birds all perched on the jungle gym and the main character sidles along, hoping not to disturb the angry flying bastards as she runs to the school?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydLJtKlVVZw
Yes, this is exactly what it's like.
I step away from my car and dozens upon dozens of birds fly away, circle back, and re-land in the tree. There is a momentary silence. I step backward, and the noise starts anew. I honestly feel that the birds are watching me, taunting me with their murderous intent to peck out my eyes.
I quickly gather my belongings and get into my house as rapidly as possible. Not going to lie -- I check to make sure there aren't any open vents or chimneys that can be accessed by the damn birds. I remember that old lady with the hollow eye sockets, dead as a door nail after having her eyeballs pecked out.
I do get a picture and a short video. It may be hard to see them, but these are not leaves on this tree. Since a gathering of crows is called a "murder," I'm relieved to be safely inside before the birds continue to plot my demise.
