Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.
St Armand’s Circle
“Kazerp. Kazerp.” (Four second pause) Kazerp. Kazerp.” The bird’s hanging out in the palm tree behind my booth. “Kazerp. Kazerp.” (Emphasis on the second syllable - “zerp). He’s making me nuts. If he’s trying to attract a mate good luck.
I know for sure it’s not a pigeon. They sound a bit like immature turkeys. Not this guy. I’m saying guy because I believe it’s the males who sit around kazerping like idiots. Can’t he see it’s not working? It’s six a.m. She’s female. She’s not even up yet. (There. I said it. It’s my contribution to chauvinism. Pretty skinny contribution, though. I mean, we’re talking about birds here.)
I’m in my booth. He can’t crap on my head unless he dumps acid. He probably can’t kazerp and dump at the same time anyway. No multitasking. Pigeons are different. I know this because in my lifetime they’ve nailed me twice. Me. I don’t hate all of them but I despise those two. Maybe I’m on a list. Guys to dump on. It’s a crappy list if you ask me.
Anyway back to the bird behind me. I keep trying to process that sound. I think I have it. In many cities there is a speaker on the stoplight posts that chirps a sound warning blind people not to cross because the light is getting ready to change. This bird sound is exactly that. Kazerp. I believe I’m onto something. He’s got a contract with the city. Gotta stay in practice for his day job. This could be the only explanation.