Robins

Every creature in nature is important. An ecosystem is a delicate web in which every animal, plant, or insect plays a role. No matter how much we destroy our native local habitat, there are some species of animals that can adapt to every atrocity we throw at them and actually thrive. Coyote, squirrels, geese, raccoons, pigeons, rats, seagulls, and countless others. I admire their tenacity and ability to adapt. I also find this way they have of carving out an existence for themselves quite admirable. However, for all there is to admire about these critters, the traits they possess that enable them to survive also makes them…assholes. There is always some creature trying to get in our attic, spray our dog, pull apart our screens, dig holes in the yard, or scurry around in our basement until a sudden snap ends their existence. I know they were here long before we moved into the area, but it's hard to think about that rationally when your wife is standing on a chair screaming as I swat at a mouse who keeps peeping out from under the fridge. I haven’t seen a mouse in the house for many years and the squirrels have left the attic. Unfortunately, I have no solution for one of my least favorite birds, the robin. Luckily, they usually only spend half the year in our area. Their call signals the arrival of spring or announces their six-month reign of terror. It depends on where you stand on this issue. I present the following instances to demonstrate my position on the matter.

A couple of weeks ago, I went out to my car at lunchtime and found it covered in bird shit - just kind of here and there from bumper to bumper. As I got closer, a bunch of robins scurried away and I thought, “That does not surprise me." Normally, I wouldn’t consider this a malicious act, but these are robins and they are little a-holes. It was weird to see so many of them together. Just like people, if you get enough buttheads in one place, they will start raising hell. They are not scared of me either, they jump around just out of reach. I was not about to start chasing them around in front of the office anyway, where everyone could see me out the windows. The only cool thing about them is their eggs, which are bright blue. Unfortunately, each one holds a future jerk. Even when they are not actively defacing my property, they seek to offend. Earlier this year, a robin landed on our fencepost, heralding the end of winter. I mentioned this to my wife as I looked out the window. No sooner had the words left my mouth when this harbinger of the dawning of spring took a massive dump and flew away. Can’t you just be nice for, like, ten seconds?

Once, many years ago, a robin was perched on the tree outside our living room picture window. It would try to fly into the reflection and bounce off of the glass over and over. At first, I said, “Aww, that poor guy. I hope he’s alright.” After a couple of hours of this happening repeatedly, I was like, “I want this #*!# thing dead!” My kids and I tried a bunch of different things to scare him off. Finally, my oldest, who was about six at the time, brought down a big bird book, opened it to a page with a picture of a hawk, and leaned it against the window. It worked! He flew in the other direction. Fly, fly away...idiot.