Preview - Through A Country Window by Eric E. Wright

Officially, spring was still two days off when we heard the spring serenade. A robin song. The heralds of spring had returned! Like two fat friars singing vespers, our resident robins warbled their ode to a warming sun before waddling along the verge in search of lunch.

With the sight of our first robins we knew that winter was in full retreat-and that our battle with techno-robins had begun. Robin and Robinette, as usual, were not content to make their nest in the big juniper by the front door like their forebears. Not for them a traditional spot in one of the oaks. No, they believe in upward mobility. But where this year?

On our way out for groceries, we looked around in bewilderment at the sprigs of grass and dirt on the car inside the garage. Looking up, we spied bits of grass and string hanging down from the garage door opener above us. The robins were building a condo on our garage door opener!

They had chosen a perfect spot--for them. Safe from neighbouring cats. Warm and dry. But we couldn't have them jamming the door open for the rest of the summer. Hardening our hearts, we braved an unmerciful scolding to remove their unfinished nest.

The battle over the garage continued for weeks. "Is the garage door shut?" we asked each other periodically through the day. Since we usually leave the door open during the daytime, we had to program ourselves to adopt a new pattern lest Robin and Robinette return to their building project.

Obviously displeased, they turned their attentions to our car. When we parked it outside during the daytime, they perched on the side mirrors to preen. But with preening came besmirching the sides of the car with robin poop. What a mess! Now, we had to remind ourselves to always park the car inside the garage and keep the door closed.

Our resident robins seem obsessed with mirrors and windows. In the early morning when I settled into my favourite chair to enjoy the country quietness, I heard strange sounds coming from the living room. Peering in, I spied Robin prancing up and down in front of the sliding glass door to the deck. Like some feathered Don Quixote he pecked wildly at the window. Then he flew to the deck railing. Cocking his head to one side he glanced back at the glass, spied his adversary, and launched another furious attack on the window. The duel continued for well over a month. Spring hormones had plunged Robin in an aggressive state.

After weeks of reminding each other to be sure the car is in the garage and the door closed, we appeared to have won the battle. Where could Robin and Robinette have gone? The wishing well? The thicket by the road? The ancient birch?

Nothing so prosaic. When I went to fetch our ladder for some postponed outdoor maintenance, I discovered their nest on top of the ladder! I had hung the ladder horizontally on the outside garage wall, high up under the eaves, where it would be inconspicuous to the break and enter crowd.

Obviously, not inconspicuous to our exploring robins. After extensive research they declared it the perfect site for their brood. Admitting defeat--and having a genuine excuse, I postponed repairs and allowed them to raise their young. But why an aluminium ladder? Why not a high tree? Have they added to their preference for high tech gadgets and mirrors an affinity for extruded metal?

Robin and Robinette adapt quickly to technology. The year before they had set up residence on top of our motion lights! We had to admire their choice. This too was safe from cruising hawks. Dry under the eaves. Hardly tidy, though. Downright annoying. They knocked one light cockeyed with their comings and goings and dripped mud and straw down the wall. That summer we yielded the use of our motion lights. This year they had chosen the garage door opener and then the aluminium ladder. I wonder what next year will bring?