Making It Up As I Go Along #584

Grumpy Feathered Friend
If only she would trust me.

I've surrendered the barbecue to Miss Robin for the next month.  I'm ok with using my electric one in the front for a while.  To let her feel right at home on the edge of my backyard gas one.

But sometimes I want to be back there.  In my yard.  To lounge upon my furniture or swing a bit in my hammock.

But she doesn't seem to understand.  And my prolonged presence... as is the case with most women... wears on her patience.

I mowed the lawn yesterday.  Going carefully and quietly in through the gate at the far end of the yard.  And for a few minutes she tolerated.  It felt like a breakthrough.  Like a newfound understanding.  That we both could be in this space in relative harmony.  This lasted some five minutes.

The sound of the push mower became too much for her and out she came.  A hop from her nest to the deck rail, then two flaps across the yard to the fence.  Where she could look down upon me and, from upon high, she spit robin insults down at me.  Translators were unnecessary...

"Cheep!" (Get out of here!)

"Cheep, chirp CHEEP!" (Leave now! I'm sick of your face!)

"Cheep CHEEP cheep cheep" (You're too noisy, my little ones are trying to sleep, GO NOW!).

I tried to reason with her.  I gently said "I'll be done in a minute".  But it didn't diffuse the situation.  And, once I was finished, there was no lingering to get to know each other better.  She had won.

Today I took a peek and saw she wasn't there.  Such moments are becoming rare.  She spends most of the day sitting upon her three baby blue shelled bundles of joy.  And if she's not, she's usually not far away.

Seeing the chance was at hand, I quickly venture out into freedom.  I figure the lawn could use some water on a hot day and break out the hose.  My first spray of water is aimed to the far corner of the yard... and just as the shower cascades through the air towards it's target, she came.

She lands upon the fence post just as the water hits it.  Quickly she retreats to the lawn of my neighbour.  Letting out a startled "CHEEP!" as she descends.  I won't be making friends this way.

As I finish up the watering, she returns atop the fence.  Sitting there staring at me with the rage only a mother robin can muster.  I know when I'm not wanted.  And I trudge back in the house again with her curses and insults "Cheeping" and "chirping" me along the way.

Yet I'm fascinated.  I stand in my kitchen for ten minutes as I watch her remaining on my fence.  As if she doesn't trust I'm really gone.  Finally she heads back to her nest.  First looking in from the balcony rail... as if checking to make sure I'm not in there.  And then hopping in for some quiet nest time.

For being so unwanted, you wouldn't think I'd grow attached to her.  But I'm constantly on the lookout to make sure the robin is doing ok.

Once I dreamed that starlings came and attacked the nest.  That I came to my patio door to look out at the carnage of scattered grass and broken eggs.  And the first thing I did, upon waking, was go to the kitchen to check on things.  I breathed a sigh of relief to see Miss Robin sitting peacefully upon her nest.

And this morning I woke early.  Hearing the chirps and peeps of another bird and hearing bird pattering upon what was either my eavestrough or my BBQ.  I couldn't shake the concern from my previous dream and got up to head downstairs and check on matters.  Still the robin was fine.

And here I sit writing these accounts in my dining room.  At the head of the table with a direct view of my barbecue.  Twice in this writing she's come out of the nest.  Either for a snake of worm or to check on some perceived threat.  And twice she returned.  The second time pausing upon the rail... appearing to look in through the window at me... before making the hop down into her nest again.

She's become my grumpy feathered friend.

The view as I write with my barbecue and deck rail just outside my patio door.

SUNDAY...

--- Fairly quiet dayshift on a day when it's too nice outside to be at work. 

--- Hot dogs on the electric BBQ in the front while I leave the robin nest alone on the BBQ in the back. 

MONDAY...

--- Hot day out there while I sit at work. 35 with the humidity. Do some training for the new fingerprint system to break up the work day. 

TUESDAY...

--- Rainy day to wake to. Looking like I'll go another week with no softball as I'm supposed to play RCMP ball before nightshift. Haven't been missing it much really. Not sure if that's due to having played for the last two years straight through the year (outside in the summer and inside in the winter) or if I'm just ready to do other things with my free time.

WEDNESDAY...
--- Second night is quiet.  Nice to end the work schedule on a quiet evening.

THURSDAY...
--- I think the night shifts does my touchy throat bad times.  My cough is more frequent now than any other time over the past week or so.  Annoying.

FRIDAY...
--- Cough settling again and I go to the movies alone.  Grand Seduction is fun times and makes me miss home.  I leave the cinema expecting to be able to zip out to the coastline and stand overlooking the ocean.
--- Mow the lawns in the evening.  Picking my spots with the robin in the backyard.  She seems generally ok with about five minutes of shared backyard time.  After that, she stands on the fence and "cheeps" at me to get out of there.

SATURDAY...
--- Long walk with the camera.  See my first Ottawa grouse in the woods.  I get bombarded by mosquitos trying to get a picture of the thing.  The bites are just ruthless this summer.  I even had one, the other day, biting my head through one of the air holes in the top of my ball cap.  Every bare millimetre is up for grabs.

SUNDAY...
--- Don't sleep well last night.  Two nights out of three I'm waking up in the middle of the night with mosquito bites on my feet and ankles itching like crazy.  It's so bad that today I decide to not even go for a walk.  I just am not up to the attack again today.  And bug spray doesn't seem to matter.  I think it only keeps them clear for the first ten minutes I'm out.  After that it does nothing.