I haven’t been able to get a picture of him on my slow cell phone – he’s a fast-fluttering little guy – but he’s a robin like this.
Actually, there’s a whole family (horde? flock?) of them, and they have apparently moved into/on our house. It started at roughly the same time that Lucas came home from surgery. This one robin kept slamming head-first into our front door. I was worried that the little bugger would crack his skull open on our doorstep, but then he started to spend more time sitting on the door handle. He just perched right there and looked in.
Then, he started tapping on the glass. He sat on the handle and pecked at the door. Tap, tap, tap.
It would’ve been funny, I guess, if it didn’t get the dogs so riled up. So, before Lucas came home and while Cooper was at doggy daycare, I took action:
Emmett and Newt parked themselves in front of the storm door, and the bird disappeared.
Then, we brought Lucas home. Fluid pooled around his incision, so he was on strict exercise restriction. I couldn’t leave the door open because Cooper would flip out, and we needed to keep Lucas still. Yet, our robin friend came back, and the bird kept at it. Tap, tap, tap.
Launching out of bed to bark his face off at a robin pecking at our front door was not an approved activity for Lucas.
Over the course of the next few days, I printed out peregrine falcon cutouts from the EPA site. At this point, another robin had started flying into our back window for hours at a time every morning. So, we stuck cutouts in the door and in the back window.
Surely – surely! – the impression of predators would stop this attack.
Nope. In both the side and the front, the robins started attacking the cutouts.
I moved Newt’s cat tree in front of the door.
It worked-ish. She sure liked being up there, but she wouldn’t stay all day. She’d wander off to do Cat Things, and our robin buddy would be back tap, tap, tapping at the glass as soon as she disappeared.
To say I was “annoyed” is like saying the ocean is kind of big.
The scene: Tap, tap, tap. Cooper launches up to bark. Lucas launches up to back up Cooper. I launch up to grab Lucas’ harness and try to settle him down. I sit back at my computer to start working again, and…
Tap, tap, tap.
Meanwhile, another robin showed up in our yard. There were several close calls when Coop would run out, and the little guy would be slow to flutter away. Just what we need. Attacks from all sides. Is my eye twitching?
John was looking out the window. “I think something’s wrong with that bird.”
“You mean other than bashing his face into our house all day long?”
“His leg is broken.”
We watched the little guy hop along the fence line, and sure enough, his little right leg is broken. He holds it tucked under him but doesn’t use it. He’s slower than the others, but he can still viciously attack our back window with the same force as the rest of them. In a weird way, I’m happy about that.
This morning, he was hanging by the screen by his one good leg, flapping his wings a bit to stay balanced, but he was doing it.
Sure, it’s annoying me to no end. But, at the same time, I can’t help but feel like this little guy showed up to… what? teach me something? tolerance? patience? Who knows. Either way, in an act of solidarity, I’m putting out a basket of Lucas’ fur because I’m sure this little guy (or gal – I can’t tell) could use a little boost toward collecting nest material. And, sure, it’s going to annoy me even more when all their little nests are built around the porch, and we can’t go in and out our front door without being attacked by all the mamas, but… I suppose that’s what garages are for.