Perpetual Ruminations

Pesky Bird!

Yesterday I shared a memory of a mouse who befriended me. Since people tend to like stories of this kind, I thought I'd share a tale (true) of another little critter whom I befriended.

It was about the same time frame while I was living in the little town of Hazel, SD. It was in the spring and a very nice day. I opened the windows to let some fresh air into the old house I lived in, sat down with a cup of coffee and started to work on a story here in WDC. Shortly after a bird started chirping and scratching at the window screen.

Distracted, I turned to see a robin on the window ledge chirping at me, scratching and pecking the screen as if it wanted to get in. I went to the window, but as soon as I was up, it flew away. I pondered it's behavior for a moment, then pushed the interruption from my thoughts and returned to my writing.

Within a short time I was again distracted and a bit irritated by the same bird. Again it was chirping, pecking, and scratching at the window. I stopped writing, swiveled my chair to look; it was almost frantic at it's attempts, or so I thought at the time, to get into the house. As soon as I got up it flew off again, so I sat and waited. Soon enough it was back and even more determined to not let me focus on writing.

When I got up the robin flew off again. I went to close the window so it wouldn't distract me but  when I got there I saw the robin jumping up and down by the side of the house. It was chirping and making a ruckus, but there was also the sound of plastic rustling. I couldn't quite see what it was after from my window vantage point so I let the dogs out and walked around the house to investigate.

As I rounded the corner Hyko, my wife's Golden Retriever, started barking. I thought at first he was barking at the bird, but instead saw he was focused and barking at a plastic grocery bag that had blown and tangled in the gas meter. It was a bit breezy, but the bag seemed to be blowing erratically and much to intensely for the breeze.

My thoughts were just a tangled bag that for some reason had upset the robin; he was still attacking it. I proceeded to untangle the bag, and as I did I discovered there was something in it; not just something, but something alive and fighting to get out. Once untangled and untwisted I looked inside. There was a female robin lying on the bottom, panting and looking a bit rough from her fight to get free of her imprisonment.

Carefully I reached inside, expecting to get pecked, but she let me lift her out and carry her back to the patio. I set her on the table wondering if she was injured, but after a few seconds she flew to the birdbath and took a long drink. Her mate, the robin who had come to the window crying for help joined her while she re-hydrated then both flew back around the house.

I followed and watched her vanish into the branches of the lilac bushes while he sat contently on a branch. I stepped closer and discovered their nest. She was now sitting on the edge of it, her three babies snuggled by her breast.

She had cut her breast and carried the scar in her feathers the rest of her life, but otherwise was fine. The check-mark on her breast made her easy to identify and she returned every year. Quite often, when we sat out on the patio, she would sit atop the privacy fence for a spell as if to thank me once again for coming to her rescue.

The following spring I helped a Morning Dove and made another feathered friend, but that's a story for another day.