My Chamber Door

It all began about three weeks ago. And I knew that Robin's were more comfortable living close to human homes than any other birds - I don't know how I knew this but I did. And so when the Robin started tap-tapping on our window, I was not all that surprised because I knew it would be a Robin because who else would it be? So I moved all the indoor plants from sight, so the bird couldn't see them. Still, though, it tap-tapped. So I placed plastic and ceramic and acrylic versions of animals or monsters - many of which we have in our house - on the windowsills. The Robin didn't care. It tap-tapped.

I assumed the bird was a moron, maybe damaged in some neurological way not all that surprising for city birds living on whatever city-infested foods they eat, but what I learned was that the tap-tapping of windows and all things reflective (also my car sidemirrors) during springtime is not all that uncommon. It's what they do. They see another very similar looking bird prancing around inside the glass and they've got hormones through the roof and they get pissed and they go for it. Protecting their quarter acre, they are.

There are many internet suggestions for this small epidemic of really annoying bird window bashing. Paint my windows with soap? Yeah, I did it, it doesn't fucking work. Dangle light mesh fabrics over the windows? (A) I did it, (B) it looks really stupid, and (C) it doesn't do a Goddamned thing. The bird first tap-taps on our bedroom window to wake us up with the sun, which is not when I particularly want to be waking up. Then she moves to the office, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. All windows are thoroughly molested by the time I leave for work. I don't want to know what happens when we're gone.

The bird has not yet killed itself, and while I like to tell myself that I don't want this to happen, let's be honest, maybe I do. Right now, readers, it taps behind me. Right now. It taps.