The Bird problem

I was woken at just after 4.40 one morning by a hammering on my back door.

 

I quickly threw on some clothes and rushed downstairs, to find Alun in an agitated mood.

 

“It’s the birds Jed. They’ve woken me early.”

 

“And now you’ve woken me early, do you really have to make such a fuss about everything?” I said.   

 

“Their problem is they go to bed too early Jed, as soon as it starts to get dark they’re back to their nests and snoring away like nobody’s business. If they went to bed at a reasonable time they wouldn’t be up at dawn making such a racket.”

 

“Well there’s nothing we can do. We can hardly stop the birds singing.”

 

“We can make them go to sleep later Jed.”

 

“Are you sure?” I said, it seemed unlikely. Surely it was Dr Doolittle who had power over the animals, not Alun. “How on earth do you expect to do that?”

 

“I have a plan Jed. The birds live in Happy Forest “(a grand title we give to the slim collection of trees we have on the island). “We simply go to the Forest at their usual bedtime and keep them awake”

 

“Keep them awake how?”

 

“We could play music, Jed. Have a bit of a sing-song, make some noise.”

 

“You want to sing to the birds to stop them singing?”

 

“I like the irony, Jed. It has a touch of class about it.”

 

“Well even if we did go to the Forest and keep the birds awake tonight, we can’t do that every night for the rest of the summer.”

 

“No, but if we do it for a few nights they’ll slip into a new routine of going to bed at a sensible time. Birds are like children, or lobsers, teach them good habits and they’ll stick to them.” (Alun was famous locally for his highly-trained lobsters).

 

Despite my doubts about Alun’s latest mad plan, he wasn’t to be resisted. That night we went to the forest at twilight, just as the birds were getting ready for bed. I was armed with my banjolele and Alun had his guitar.

 

We sang a selection of folk song’s from the island’s long history: The ballad of Jed; The Ballad of Alun and the Ballad of Alun and Jed. We could feel the birds quivering in their nests at the relentless acoustic folk.  When we finally left, an hour later, they were in no mood for sleep.

 

“If I know anything Jed, I know that was the perfect plan. The birds will be exhausted from listening to us singing and will sleep ‘til noon tomorrow. Just you wait.”

 

I didn’t have to wait long. I was woken at 3.00 in the morning by Alun hammering on my door.

 

“What on earth are you doing?” I shouted down.

“It’s the birds, Jed. They’re woken early.”

 

“But it’s still dark.”

 

“We must have disturbed their sleep patterns Jed. They’ve got up in the middle of the night.”

 

“Well I hope you’re satisfied. It just shows you shouldn’t tamper with nature.”

 

“Nonsense Jed, we just need a better idea.”

 

“A better idea? What have you got planned this time?”

 

“Just be ready at twilight. I’ll make all the arrangements.”

 

Alun said no more. I didn’t seem him for the rest of the day, which was unusual; he was clearly busy making plans. At twilight he appeared as promised, armed with ladders, torches and 200 miniature pairs of sunglasses (with his own strap-on design). (Due to council regulations the island is restricted to a maximum of 200 birds, so Alun knew exactly how many pairs of sunglasses to make).

 

“I realised you were right, Jed. We can’t change nature. The birds will want to get up when the sun rises no matter how much we try to keep them await. It’s a far better idea to strap sunglasses onto the birds’ beaks, so that they don’t realise it’s light with the first rays of dawn. That will give us at least another hour in bed.”

 

I thought of a million objections to the plan, but as Alun’s pride is easily hurt I decided to go along with the scheme. We spent a long night climbing ladders, sneaking sunglasses onto the beaks of sleeping birds, climbing back down and moving to the next nest. By the time we’d finished and were ready for bed it was nearly time to get up.

 

The next day I woke just after noon to find nobody hammering on my door. I check the time on all the clocks and watches in the house. I’d overslept, which meant that Alun had also overslept.

 

I hurried to Alun’s house, as I’d never known him to miss the 6.30 boat, let alone the 12.00 noon boat. I found him sound asleep.

 

“Did you forget to set your alarm?” I asked.

 

“What, in the summer?” he said. “I never set my alarm in the summer, the birds always wake me.”

 

“Actually they have been quiet today.”

 

Alun dressed and we went to investigate. We climbed a tree with a nest relatively low down, to find the three birds in it still sound asleep. The next nest we tried also contained sleeping birds. From the surrounding silence of the forest it was clear that all of the birds in the forest were still sound asleep, even though it was by now early afternoon.

 

“You realise what I’ve done Jed, I’ve made the glasses too powerful. The birds don’t realise the sun’s out. They think it’s still nighttime.”

 

“Well I hope you’ve finally learnt your lesson.”

 

“Not at all, Jed. Clearly my idea worked, it just worked too well. We just have to go back and swap the birds’ glasses for a less dark variety.”

“What, you mean make 200 more pairs of miniature glasses and creep back in the night to swap the glasses of every bird in the forest?”

 

“Yes of course, Jed. What else could I mean?”

 

Which is why we spent another night crawling up and down trees breaking into nests. The plan worked. This time around the specs were just the right darkness, causing the birds to wake up an hour later, but no more. As an unexpected bonus Happy Island’s bird population were voted the coolest birds in the world in a GQ magazine poll. It’s the only award our island’s ever won.