Springtime – fresh sprouts popping out of the ground. Birds singing and gathering at the feeders. It’s such a happy time.
Usually.
Living in a national forest, we have lots of different birds. Most fun to watch.
Some not so much.
The robin that came to occupy our backyard has not been fun.
Thump, thump, thump. He flies over and over into the large picture window in my kitchen.
I turned on the kitchen light hoping to diffuse the reflection from the trees on the mountain behind the house and a technique supposed to discourage him.
I figured by the time the dogs and I returned from our morning walk he’d be long gone. Wrong!
All through our breakfast, the determined little redbreast thumped against the window. Not hard like he’d miscalculated the needed thrust to flyover the house. Soft like he was trying to land on a branch he saw in the glass.
He never hit hard enough to fall only to flutter away and try again. Still I worried he’d knock himself senseless.
We had researched ways to deter birds from the plate glass after we first moved to the national forest and two birds died when they crashed into it. Short of shuttering the window, which would totally block the view (the reason we installed the large picture windows in the first place) nothing seem to stop this crazy robin.
Whenever robin perched on the crab apple tree, I’d fling open the kitchen door and frighten him away. This seemed to work so I spent the next four hours working in the backyard flowerbeds.
The robin stayed away…
Until I went inside to write and the thump, thump, thump began again. In desperation, I nailed a sheet over the kitchen picture window.
All was quiet again…
Until he started flying into the dining room window, which I note has a blind that is supposed to discourage window bashing.
Not for this robin.
Thump, thump, thump. I stomp out and Mr. Robin watches me hang a sheet over that window.
Undeterred, as soon as I’m inside, he starts bashing the small bathroom window. Thump, thump, thump.
Out I go again and Robin watches me covered the bathroom window.
By now it’s getting dark… very dark inside the house with the picture windows draped… and robin goes to wherever his nest is for the night.
No thumping the next morning. Thrilled that I’d won, the dogs and I left for our walk. Unleashing them when I returned, I heard the dreaded thump, thump, thump.
The dining room sheet had slipped to expose a tiny triangle of reflection. Mr. Robin was once again determined to come inside.
I trouped outside, adjusted the sheet, all the while shouting to the infuriating robin that I did not want to have to take drastic measures so he’d best move on.
I was not happy because with my lovely picture windows blocked I can’t see the other birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and deer in my backyard.
Mr. Robin perched on the stair rail waiting for me to take down the sheets, I guess.
I saw him every time I passed the kitchen door, which also has a small window. (A window that said robin ignores.)
I opened the kitchen door and gave the ultimate threat: “I’m not living forever with my windows covered. Don’t make me get the pellet gun!”
Not sure who’s won — the robin or me.
For five days now, the picture windows have remained covered. So far, Mr. Robin is nowhere to be seen.
I’ll let you know what happens when we take the window coverings down.
Sometimes I wear my warning shirt.
Last weekend we celebrated the day Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Benjamin Franklin signed the Declaration of Independence.
