A Peaceful Sunday in Church Praying for Deliverance from an Angry Bird
by Jerry Gervase
It was a peaceful Sunday morning that began in church. I arrived early since my job was to deliver the guest soloist to the choir loft a half hour before the service began.
The church was empty and quiet, which allowed me time for meditation and prayer. Among the petitions I sent heavenward was to be delivered from an angry bird. If God’s eye is on the sparrow I figured He has some influence over an antagonistic robin.
You’d think an educated, conscious, alert, practical human being could go nose-to-beak with a surly songbird. But this red-breasted bird had no yellow in him. He was not the least bit afraid of me. The front of my house is at ground level. The ground breaks steeply at the back, which is heavily forested. Thick columns support the overhang. The result is a rear deck high off the ground in the middle of a forest that gives the impression of living in a tree house. You got trees, you got birds. Which is a good thing. I’ve had my share of feeders and spa-like birdbaths to keep my feathered friends fed and clean.
The rear of the house also has large picture windows that present a verdant view. The problem is a very aggressive robin that keeps attacking the windows. Research tells me the bird sees its reflection in the window and thinks another bird is horning in on its territory. The robin crashes into the window ferociously, banging it with its beak and feet. Naturally it leaves tiny footprints on the window and prodigious amounts of bird poop on the deck.
I’ve tried reasoning with the robin. I‘ve said, “Hey, look over your shoulder. There’s a ton of trees out there. Leave my windows alone.” I’ve even tried shaming the bird. I say, “Are you stupid or something. Can’t you see the forest for the trees? Is there such hate in your red breast that you want to kill another bird?” It’s silly to belittle a bird, even one with murder in its heart. I might have Atticus Finch showing up at my door telling me it’s a sin to mock a killing bird.
Someone suggested a scarecrow, which isn’t practical. Instead, I went to The Dollar Store and bought four large pinwheels. I taped three of them to the railing and suspended another from a small space between the eaves and the house. They spun at a high velocity of RPMs and seemed to do the trick. Naturally when there was no wind they were as still as HMS Bounty in a calm sea. Mostly though, the colorful discs respond to the wind and are rather hypnotic to look at. Then one day a guy called and asked if my Subaru was for sale.
“Why would you think that?” I asked.
“With all those spinning pinwheels, the back of your house looks like a used car lot,” he said.
We’ve moved some large plants in front of a couple of the windows. The combination of plants and pinwheels seems to be working, but not entirely. Yet I am loathe to take more punitive action. How can one even think about doing harm to this harbinger of spring? Then I thought about looking at the problem from the robin’s perspective. What is it about the picture window that brings on avian aggression? Out on the deck I went. I saw my own reflection in the window. Hmm. I noticed that during the past year when we were under house arrest due to the pandemic I noshed more than was necessary. There was more of me.
If the saga of the robin goes on, it needs a name. First I thought of “Close Encounters of the Bird Kind.” Then it came to me like a bird on the wing, “The Adventures of Fat Man and Robin.” You know little robin, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I see a Netflix movie in this. If it sells, we can build up a nice little nest egg.
Contact Jerry at jerrygervase@yahoo.com
