Internet, we have a problem. You see, there is this bird. And he is mocking us. Taunting us. Daily. Constantly. Without ceasing. Am I making myself clear?
Actually, there have been two birds. For whom the phrase "bird brain" was certainly invented. When we first moved into this house, a red cardinal made himself our most unwelcome one-bird welcoming committee. He became obsessed with his reflection in our front window, and began hurling himself at it over and over. We read about this phenomenon online, and decided to try a few ideas to solve the problem.
First, we cut out a picture of an owl and placed it in the window. They are supposed to be intimidated by owls as they are considered a predator. Our own Mocking Birds, however, appear to love the life of danger.
You have to understand this problem is worse than it might seem, which would explain why we quickly developed some violent tendencies. See, our next tactic in trying to dissuade the dang bird was developing what we like to call the "torture strip of death". Michael cut out a strip of cardboard in the shape of the window ledge, and poked about 100 4" long nails through it --- thus turning the simple ledge into the now patented Torture Strip of Death. It worked! Not having a place to stand, the red cardinal never returned (he didn't die, though, as far as we know, which is good - we really aren't morbid, we just wanted to consider him dead to us, you know, like we could pretend we never knew him, even if we later met and accidentally made eye contact in public).
Our triumph was short-lived, though, as soon, a long-legged blue bird took his place. He couldn't care less about the pokey perch, as he was tall enough to just stand between the nails while resting in between short kamikaze flights.
We simply can't get him to go away. Even though Bear considers him a friend, he is very likely to send us right over the cuckoo's nest. Just listen to that little video over and over, and over and over, and at full volume (keeping in mind this is a day when he probably had taken some Prozac), and try to get some work done while you're at it. Do this daily, then repeat. I guarantee you after just five minutes, one eye will start twitching uncontrollably, you may notice some smoke coming out of your ears, and you will certainly be swearing a little under your breath, even if your vocabulary is usually as clean as a re-run on Nickelodeon. If he could at least keep a steady beat, I could make up a little tune to go along with it, or better yet - I could start practicing my secretly desired skill of beatboxing.
So what to do? We need help, Internet. We don't necessarily want to kill the little wackos, even though I do admit to stalking them with a BB gun for a week, until we decided that probably wasn't the best way to introduce ourselves to the neighbors, you know, becoming known as those "crazy young kids who hide behind the columns on their front patio exercising their right to bear arms in the middle of the day, occasionally aiming for their own front windows while smoke is streaming from their ears and profanities streaming from their mouths."
Hide your chil'ren, y'all.
Moreover, I realized that even if I were to succeed and send that Little Bugger over the rainbow, another winged creature would soon take his place, trying to prove it is a Wild Thing! And, in general, I LOVE the Wild Things! This is what makes me crazy! I love all the rest of the little birdies who live in our yard. Their chirping and singing makes us feel like we are in the tropics, or living in an animated Disney film. I will whistle a cheerful tune as I build them their own luxury pool and spa (and outdoor bath!) and stock it with well-fed wiggly worms. I will gladly sponsor their children's fundraisers, or host a summer camp for feathered friends in my backyard. Hey, I already got my mom across the street a very nice bird feeder for Mother's Day (with enough "gourmet" bird seed included to feed multiple winged creatures). So, since I am technically supporting many other birds in the neighborhood, this should make up for my ill-will toward the Mocking Birds at my window, right?
There must be a way for us to all get along. So, Internet, we are open to suggestion, and willing to engage in (mild) torture if that's what it takes, as we ourselves have now been tortured daily for weeks. Simply flipping the bird the bird just doesn't seem to be working.
Ok, got to (peck peck) stop (peck) writing (peck peck peck peck) now (pa peck pa peck peck) as he is (peckpeckpeckpeck) ... wait, what the (PECK) was I just saying (peckity peck PECK)?
Hello, Cuckoo's Nest?
Yes, RESERVATION FOR ONE, PLEASE.
He tipped the can a little further, and what do you know, we found a new little backyard buddy!
Bear found out his name is Sir Gilbert Eugene Rohan III, the Frog Prince of Elgin. He kindly posed for some photos, but he was kind of snooty about the whole thing.
He was just a little too portly to fit through the hole, so even though Bear begged us to keep him, we gently released His Majesty Prince Gilbert, and bid him adieu with a bow and a curtsey. Good morrow and farewell, Your Royal Frogness.
