Full Disclosure series...Nightsong?

So last night, I crawl into bed at 9:00pm.  I'm flipping through the various catalogs that arrived in the mail (I love the J. Peterman catalogue - the little vignettes for each product are hilariously entertaining to read - who buys this stuff??) when I hear, out of nowhere, birds chirping.  At 9:00pm at night.

I turned to Mr. MF, who was browsing through the Internet on his iPad and, after ascertaining that he heard it as well, asked why birds would be singing when it was dark out.  "Maybe it's the huge thunderstorm that's headed our way," my husband offered helpfully, pointing to the Doppler radar that he had pulled up on his iPad. 

I grabbed my iPhone and Googled "birds chirping at night."  The resulting hits covered everything from "evil omens" (really people?) to the more probable proliferation of roads that brings noisy traffic into birds' nesting areas and forces the critters to sing at night, when they have a chance of being heard.  I relayed my new found knowledge to my husband (all the while, the darn birds are singing their hearts out), who grunted, and turned off my light, lamenting the destruction of habitats and the changes that man hath wrought on our feathered friends. 

Chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE! 

So, my problem is that I'm a very light sleeper, and if something is disturbing my sleep (chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE!), I fixate on it (chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE!) and can't let it go (chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE!).  So after about 60 seconds of tossing around in bed, I was relieved to hear that Bebe had started fussing - as I got out of bed to feed him, I crossed my fingers that the birds would get it out of their system and be done singing by the time I got back to bed.

Thirty minutes later (in a blissfully silent nursery - clearly the birds were right outside our bedroom window), I crept back into bed.  I listened for a beat in the darkness, heard nothing and settled against my pillow, content that the birds had wrapped up their nocturnal serenade.

Chirp, chirpchirpchirp, TWEEDLE! 

"Dammit!" I exclaimed, slapping the sheets and rousing Mr. MF.  "Those damn birds are going to keep me up all night." I flipped to my side, grumbling to myself and feeling very put out.

Two minutes later..."Babe." 

Mr. MF loomed next to me, propped up on his elbow, blinking sleepily.  I flipped over and waited for him to speak, wondering what was wrong.  He paused a beat more, and then said:

"That was my alarm clock.  I just realized.  It must have turned itself on when I reset it. The birds are one of the alarm sounds." 

We started at each other in the dark before bursting into laughter.  Like total morons, we had laid in bed for AN HOUR listening to this maniacal chirping and lamenting the plight of these poor creatures, who had been forced to sing at night because of the callous invasion of human society into their woodlands. 

When in reality, we were just listening to a very realistic alarm clock.