Derrick

A few weeks ago, my husband ventured to our patio to water his beloved plants (many of whom have since moved indoors and yea! Nothing like 15,000 plants in a 925 square foot apartment). I was doing something in the kitchen and I heard him yell a number of swears at the top of his lungs.

I went running out to see what was wrong, and he was covered in water and looking a bit pissed.

Me: What happened?

Him: I was watering my plant and was attacked!

(Here is a visual of the plant lest you think we were speaking of some sort of tree, or giant bush:

Me: ???????

Him: A bird must have moved into the plant while we were away and when I watered him, he flew out and scared the crap out of me.

Me: (suddenly noticing some pissed off chirping going on behind my head) Are you going to move the plant inside?

Him: No! He obviously needs a place to stay warm - I'll let him live there as long as he doesn't peck my head.

(As I may have mentioned before, my husband will trap and free bugs and lizards that venture into our home - never kill. He's an animal lover, even if it's motivated by his lack of courage when it comes to creepy crawly things).

So, we've adapted to having a new pet. My husband checks on him when it's cold to make sure that he's snug and in bed. He even stopped watering the plant so that the bird doesn't receive a surprise bath. And we've named him - after a bit of debate - Derrick - after a much beloved clip from "Family Guy."




We have determined that Derrick is either some sort of wren or a Savannah Sparrow.

You know, I work from home these days and my desk overlooks our patio. I've noticed that Derrick hasn't really been flying around ...but I have high hopes since my husband checks on him every night and confirms that Derrick is snug in his bed. I just hope that he's not SNUG in his BED if you know what I mean. He's a cute little guy and he's grown on me.