One typical Sunday in March, a Mrs Anya Colibri was enjoying the territorial view from her southern window, when her own reflection greeted her. She squinted at first, until she recognized there was a photographer trained on her.

This was most inconvenient, as she’d yet to shower that day and really wasn’t prepared for the publicity. Of lesser concern was the invasion of privacy. Sure, she’d recently closed on this northwest contemporary just a week earlier, haven miraculously outbid a rufous out of California for the cozy location close to freeways but still nestled in the woods. However, it wasn’t her first encounter with such a strange person, and she knew he’d soon go away, which he did.

The next day, however, she was greeted with three photographers jostling each other for a view into her bedroom window. With her eggs ready to arrive along with the bedroom stencils, cribs, and baby cameras she’d ordered, this was concerning. Her friend had been evicted not long ago by crows who had followed a photographer crowd.

Attempts to buzz them into leaving were unsuccessful, and the next day the crowd had grown to five, with others replacing them as each grew tired. When she fired up her laptop, Anya was stunned to find her home address listed on Facebook. How could they have done this!

With her hideaway no longer hidden, Anya was faced with a horrible deliberation. Should she abandon her home and look for a new one, or should she risk being visited by crows or stellars jays? Neither option was tempting. If only the photographer hadn’t posted her address!

(note: this photo is from two years ago)