a birdhouse that has baby birds living inside. it is red and big. and to a childs mind the greatest surprise the first look you take inside is like opening presents on christmas. dont touch them. the mother bird will not like the scent of humans on her children.
In grade school we were always required to make birdhouses. It was always sometimes between first and third and grade school, but always within that time frame a birdhouse became a required project. I do not know whether it is because I have a subconscious resistance against birds or whether because i am architecullarly challenged, but I hated making bird houses.
bird houses are where birds live. they are often quite luxurious. bird houses that sport bird baths are often the most in demand models. corinthian columns are also in demand for the modern birdhouse. perches are prefered to be made of ivory, strengthened cinnamon or erections. not even kidding.
sitting in the back yard. reading a good book then a bird flys into the bird house a little boy just made and the smile on his face is priceless to know that his birdhouse was special. thats what i see….
The birdhouse in my backyard sat still, crucified to the ancient oak tree. Appearing vacant, I ventured forth to look inside.. A baby flying squirrel catapulted out, clutching to my shoulder before leaping, scrambling, and fleeing its way up the boughs. Whoa, that was scary.
I asked Adam to fill the bird feeders up with feed this afternoon. The birds nearly tore the door off of their birdhouse trying to get to it. It’s just been so cold lately that they’re not able to scronge for food.
The birdhouse was painted red and blue. The house I built with Dad on the last week of his life. It sits in the garage, where we left it that day to dry. I just can’t make myself move it. Somehow it seems like a memory that won’t die if I just leave that darn birdhouse where it is.
i dont know what to say about birdhouses except that i always get mad at the squirells for stealing the seed out. the little fatties dont need it. but thats kind of mean. so i always let them go on anyway. indeed.
She felt like she was in a birdhouse. Caged, only given the bare necessities. She felt like she was entirely dependent on others…never on herself. She was always perched, mouth gaping…awaiting.
She’d whimper and caw at the oppurtune times, just waiting, waiting.
I love birhouses. Me and my mom built one once before. We had this amazingly beautiful bird. It was blue, yellow & greeb. Had feathers that were just beautiful. Too bad it died. Just like my heart .. And my mom.
reminds me of the movie the birdcage. damn. i love that mvie. i miss my mom. we used to watch that all the time. why cant i be a better daughter? oh now the birdhose has set in. jonas brothers concert with zoe. ex friend. i wish she was still my friend. they were all throwing birdhouses at kevin cause he asked for them in camp rock.
the song by they might be giants birdhouse in your sooul
im your oonly friend im not your only friend but im a little glowing friend but really im not actually your freind and i am dum dum dum ive got a secret to tell from my eletrical cell its a simple massage and im leaving out all the wistles and bells
while the room must listen to me
Tweet Tweet. This is my home. This is where I fly to when the rest of the world is cold and harsh. I nest. I feed my baby birds as they stay cozy in this little home. This is my home.
birds fly to it and eat in it. they are painted by families. created in woodshop class. can be colorful. can be plain. generally are outside. can be made of plastic also.
The girl sat on the swing of the birdhouse, rocking back and forth. Ribbons were wrapped around her neck and ankles, chaining her to the beautifully gilded cage. A time-worn face gazed sedately at the ceiling, peering at the sky shown through the edges of the bars.
and the birdhouse fell. just like that. as it hit the tiled floor, a crash reverberated through the house. the glass shattered everywhere, piercing the furniture with such force it looked as though a tornado had come through. and for a second, time stood still as a single robin flew back, finding her home in pieces on the floor.
I live in a birdhouse in someone’s backyard. It’s very small and uncomfortable. The little wooden structure is painted red and white, and I share it with a couple other birds…a robin and a woodpecker. I don’t like it. At all. :|
The birdhouse was rocking in the wind because the storm was so fierce. The babies in the birdhouse were scared of the lightning and especially the thunder. The wind blew so hard that the birdhouse fell from the tree. Luckily all the babies were ok.
a birdhouse that has baby birds living inside. it is red and big. and to a childs mind the greatest surprise the first look you take inside is like opening presents on christmas. dont touch them. the mother bird will not like the scent of humans on her children.
bird houses are small and look cozy. well decorated and usally made of wood. look warm inthe winter and nice and dry in the rain.
In grade school we were always required to make birdhouses. It was always sometimes between first and third and grade school, but always within that time frame a birdhouse became a required project. I do not know whether it is because I have a subconscious resistance against birds or whether because i am architecullarly challenged, but I hated making bird houses.
bird houses are where birds live. they are often quite luxurious. bird houses that sport bird baths are often the most in demand models. corinthian columns are also in demand for the modern birdhouse. perches are prefered to be made of ivory, strengthened cinnamon or erections. not even kidding.
sitting in the back yard. reading a good book then a bird flys into the bird house a little boy just made and the smile on his face is priceless to know that his birdhouse was special. thats what i see….
The birdhouse in my backyard sat still, crucified to the ancient oak tree. Appearing vacant, I ventured forth to look inside.. A baby flying squirrel catapulted out, clutching to my shoulder before leaping, scrambling, and fleeing its way up the boughs. Whoa, that was scary.
I asked Adam to fill the bird feeders up with feed this afternoon. The birds nearly tore the door off of their birdhouse trying to get to it. It’s just been so cold lately that they’re not able to scronge for food.
The birdhouse was painted red and blue. The house I built with Dad on the last week of his life. It sits in the garage, where we left it that day to dry. I just can’t make myself move it. Somehow it seems like a memory that won’t die if I just leave that darn birdhouse where it is.
i dont know what to say about birdhouses except that i always get mad at the squirells for stealing the seed out. the little fatties dont need it. but thats kind of mean. so i always let them go on anyway. indeed.
She felt like she was in a birdhouse. Caged, only given the bare necessities. She felt like she was entirely dependent on others…never on herself. She was always perched, mouth gaping…awaiting.
She’d whimper and caw at the oppurtune times, just waiting, waiting.
I love birhouses. Me and my mom built one once before. We had this amazingly beautiful bird. It was blue, yellow & greeb. Had feathers that were just beautiful. Too bad it died. Just like my heart .. And my mom.
reminds me of the movie the birdcage. damn. i love that mvie. i miss my mom. we used to watch that all the time. why cant i be a better daughter? oh now the birdhose has set in. jonas brothers concert with zoe. ex friend. i wish she was still my friend. they were all throwing birdhouses at kevin cause he asked for them in camp rock.
the song by they might be giants birdhouse in your sooul
im your oonly friend im not your only friend but im a little glowing friend but really im not actually your freind and i am dum dum dum ive got a secret to tell from my eletrical cell its a simple massage and im leaving out all the wistles and bells
while the room must listen to me
Tweet Tweet. This is my home. This is where I fly to when the rest of the world is cold and harsh. I nest. I feed my baby birds as they stay cozy in this little home. This is my home.
birds fly to it and eat in it. they are painted by families. created in woodshop class. can be colorful. can be plain. generally are outside. can be made of plastic also.
The girl sat on the swing of the birdhouse, rocking back and forth. Ribbons were wrapped around her neck and ankles, chaining her to the beautifully gilded cage. A time-worn face gazed sedately at the ceiling, peering at the sky shown through the edges of the bars.
Home for the small. to build them when i was lirlle.
and the birdhouse fell. just like that. as it hit the tiled floor, a crash reverberated through the house. the glass shattered everywhere, piercing the furniture with such force it looked as though a tornado had come through. and for a second, time stood still as a single robin flew back, finding her home in pieces on the floor.
I live in a birdhouse in someone’s backyard. It’s very small and uncomfortable. The little wooden structure is painted red and white, and I share it with a couple other birds…a robin and a woodpecker. I don’t like it. At all. :|
Metal cage. White bird. Newspaper. Water. Seeds. Green bordered mirror. Songs. Chirps. Tweets. Swinging toys. Colorful ladders. Flapping wings.
The birdhouse was rocking in the wind because the storm was so fierce. The babies in the birdhouse were scared of the lightning and especially the thunder. The wind blew so hard that the birdhouse fell from the tree. Luckily all the babies were ok.