I have discovered a reason never to trim another bush or tree in my yard. I think I can probably live with that, because it is NOT my favorite chore.

Today I decided to trim a bush that stands at the edge of my deck blocking the view of my yard. It’s a view that includes lots of other bushes and an area I let grow wild as a home for birds and bunnies and such.

Now, I don’t know what kind of bush this particular one is, but it shoots up high if I don’t stay after it. It’s thick and it’s unsightly. I’d cut it out completely, but the birds seem to like it. I’ve compromised with those birds in the past by keeping it low, but I let it get away from me.

I had snipped at it back in spring, but stopped abruptly when I noticed a bird’s nest in it; I didn’t want to disturb a bird’s habitat. Thus, the bush that is supposed to be knee-high had grown up to be about seven foot tall. I was sick and tired of looking at it.

Since nesting season is over, I grabbed my clippers, donned my gloves and cut that bush down to size. It was quite satisfying to snip away at it, and I wasn’t a bit disturbed that I had cut away most of the greenery. I know it will grow back several inches overnight. That’s the kind of bush this is.

I threw all the branches on the deck, so I’ll have to look at them until I will finally clean them up. Then, I sat down with a soda on the porch to admire my handiwork.

Suddenly, I heard the most horrible chittering of a wren and another bird calling, as well. That other bird was screaming something that sounded like, “SCREEE! I saw one of my wrens dive bombing for the safety he knew — the safe haven he always had: that bush that was no longer there. Right behind him was a hungry red-tailed hawk!

DADGUMMIT!

I jumped out of the chair and waved my arms frantically. The hawk perched on my deck, looked at me insolently. I thought I was going to have to get a rake and swat him. Fortunately, I didn’t have to do that; he flew away. I didn’t hear him, but I know he was cussing me.

I had gone and messed with the natural order of nature, and I feel awful bad about it. I know the hawk was hungry, and I’m sorry, but he should be eating field mice before they find out how to get in my attic for the winter.

I’m glad I was there to save the wren; he could have saved himself if I hadn’t gone and cut down his home. I endangered him, because I took away his safe haven. I should have left well enough alone. Do you think I should get some duct tape and try to put it back together?

Nah. It really was an ugly bush.