One of the things I do actually love about the suburbs is the quiet. Of course, the quiet mostly happens in short spurts between clamorous bouts of home construction, lawn mowers, garbage trucks, cicadas, and dogs barking. But when I do get it, it’s glorious. So, naturally, as I was having one of those brief, late afternoon quiet moments on my deck, a bird suddenly landed on my deck railing and started to yell at me. It wasn’t a nice little bird tweet like the helpful birdies in a Disney movie. It was a large bird caw like something from the movie “The Birds” the precedes them pecking me to death. “Caw, caw, caw,” he cawed at me. “Shoo, shoo,” I shooed back at him. Unfortunately, he neither stopped cawing nor shooed. In fact, he seemed very insistent and cawed more aggressively than before. I wondered if maybe this was a turf war and he thought I was in his space. I thought maybe if I danced on the deck, snapped my fingers, and sang the rumble song from “West Side Story” he might take the hint. But no dice. So, I decided maybe I needed to be firmer. “Caw, caw, caw,” said the big black bird. “Be gone,” I said dramatically, channeling my inner Gandolf. “There will be no cawing here, today.” “Caw,” said the bird. At this point, I started to grow a little concerned. What if the bird was in trouble and was cawing at me to get me to help him? Maybe, like Lassie, he was trying to tell me that Timmy fell into the well, even though I didn’t know anyone named Timmy and there were no wells anywhere near my property. Or perhaps he was warning me of an impending zombie apocalypse. I heard that sometimes animals are aware of things like earthquakes and zombie apocalypses before they happen. Just to be safe, I checked my weather app on my phone but didn’t see forecasts for either of those things. The bird started to fly but landed a few feet away and started cawing again. Then he flew again a few feet further. “Caw, caw,” he said. I decided he definitely wanted me to follow him. I got up and started to walk across the deck. The bird flew over to a nearby tree on my property, and I followed. Now I was sure he had a problem. Maybe one of his little baby birdies fell out of the nest. Or maybe there was something threatening on or near the tree. I circled the tree and then looked around the area but found nothing. I returned back to the tree and stood under the bird. “There’s nothing here,” I yelled to him. “I think you’re good. Be safe little large bird. Have a good bird life.” As I was about to head back to the deck, I heard someone start up a chainsaw next door. Then a lawn mower roared to life. And then, just for good measure … the bird pooped on my back. — For more Lost in Suburbia, Follow Tracy on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LostinSuburbiaFanPage and Twitter @TracyBeckerman.