No one expects a psychotic robin

When one lives on a mountaintop along the edge of the Rocky Mountains, animals are an expected part of life. The same can be said pretty much anywhere in Colorado – I’ve seen a coyote walking through a downtown neighborhood like he owned the place – but the variety naturally increases as you head away from the city. Moving up here, I knew there’d be the ever plentiful deer (the Colorado version of rats or cockroaches), and the more majestic elk, the variety of songbirds and the occasional owl. The turkeys were a bit of a surprise. There’s a gang of them that will awkwardly appear across a road or driveway from time to time like some bumbling Road Runner. But even then, not out of the realm of possibility.

However, I did not expect the psychotic robin.

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He started an all out assault on the house this morning. Sure, I’ve had birds run into a window from time to time, but they usually fly off after the surprise collision, a little dazed but hopefully smarter. Not so with the robin. This bird wants in.
I tried to shoo him away at first. But it didn’t work. Nope, the bird stopped, looked at me for a moment, then I swear he started to feign nonchalance. He flitted over to the grass and started pecking around like a normal bird. And the moment I turned away, psycho robin came back.

He tried a few more times, then moved to the other windows, one by one. I tried again to shoo him, but he’d only stop and wait until I gave up. It went on for about an hour before he moved his attacks to the second floor windows. This is a bird after Hitchcock’s own heart.

Finally, after trying to ignore the thumps of his all-out assault, I retaliated with post-it notes. Like a mad woman, I randomly decorated a few of the windows with a handful of bright, yellow squares. The rose window, it was not. But the robin disappeared.

I tentatively celebrated my success by taking down the lovely artwork several hours later. Still no robin.

Until about an hour ago, when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of feathers and a dull thump against glass. It was just the once, as though to let me know this isn’t over.

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