Birds have very tiny brains and I’m going through a lot of glass cleaner. First World problems, I know.
For the past several years, every Spring, there’s this robin. For the second half of March and all throughout April, he tries to break into my house from sunup until about lunchtime. I’m going on the assumption that it’s the same guy every year, because I refuse to believe that more than one bird is that stubborn and dumb. Note to self: Google lifespan of the American Robin.
Now this isn’t a situation where he flies at the glass full tilt and hurts himself. I once had a work setup that, in a certain light, prompted a bird or two to break its neck on the mirage-of-more-trees that was actually my office window. That was sad.
This is just annoying.
This bird-burglar wants in for some reason. He swoops down and adjusts into an unlikely hummingbird maneuver – heavy, red-breasted body tucked and dangling vertical, wings flapping like mad to keep his mucky little feet poised for scrabbling at the glass.
It’s not a nice perch or nesting nook that he’s after. It’s the television or the neato scrollwork metal folding chair that I got for next to nothing, or bananas for breakfast, or something. I don’t know. But I do know that he wants very particularly in and not just through, because if he can’t get in at the back of the house (which he can’t) he simply goes around to the front. And there aren’t any daggone trees reflected at the front of the house – just my two neighbors’ tidy house facades.
He’s tenacious. And filthy. His willfulness leaves him on the stoop for hours (in between dimwitted forays to check if the glass is still there) and he obviously has a nervous stomach. Criminal intent is hard on the digestive system. The flagstone is bespeckled and bepuddled with his anxiety.
And the worst thing – he keeps me awake on the weekends. I’ve no interest in Saturday’s and Sunday’s sunrise, as I can’t tell them apart from the Monday-thru-Friday show that I’m compelled to watch all week. But I can’t sleep through this birdbrain’s erratic skitter and thump. So…
Necessity being the mother of invention, I have discovered that he’s terrified of Webkinz and painter’s tape. Behold: The ScarePoodle −