If I'm being honest, it's probably sweeping the back yards of lots of folks in my neighborhood. And county. And state.
But they don't have blogs, so I get to talk about it.
Muahaha!
So.
Birds.
They exist.
And this time of year, they exist A LOT.
Particularly noticeable in my little slice of heaven is a trio of jerkfaced robins.
This is a male robin.
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| image courtesy of www.wikipedia.com |
Except right now, male robins around my home look more like softballs with feathers. The suckers are huge. And they're hungry. And they're horny.
It's been a long winter for the poor little turdus migratorius. So now that spring is... well... springing, they've got business to attend to.
First and foremost is feeding their prodigous girths with all the grubblies and wigglies and icky-grossities that my yard can produce.
To that I say Go Get 'Em. I don't want them, you can have them. Knock yourselves out.
But secondly, they must find a lady friend so that they can start making little birds. But in order to win over a ladybird, they must do battle with one another to prove themselves the most manly and worthy producer of baby-bird-gravy.
Which has led to some interesting viewing on the front yard channel of my local living room television.**1
Most recently, we watched on Saturday as a pair of robins started to puff and fuss at one another.
Their first step, it seems, is to fill themselves so full of air and attitude that they puff beyond the extent that you'd think their little birdy skin would go. When this fails to scare off their equally-puffy combatant, they resort to dirtier tactics.
Now, in my back yard is a fabulously springy pine tree. It has long, lithe boughs that bend and swoop with the wind... or, for instance, under the weight of a fat-and-horny robin. Our combatants alighted, one each upon the lowest boughs of the tree. But as it is a product of nature, the boughs are not symmetrically aligned along the trunk. No... one is higher than the other. This created the issue... and the solution.
Upon realizing that his higher station provided him an edge in combat, the higher-lit contestant seemed to ready himself and then attack. He would, in one quick movement, jump from his own station and alight on the bough of his counterpart. The doubled weight upon the limb would cause it to swoop low, but the attacker was ready for this. As soon as the bough reached its lowest point, and before it started to spring back upwards and reset, he would spread his wings and take off on a diagonal plane so as to break free of the upward trajectory of the bough... effectively flinging his opponent into the air, and causing a great amount of displeasure.
At least, it did for them. They battled back and forth, flinging each other and resetting and then flinging each other once more until finally they either declared a winner or forgot what they were fighting for. They weren't seen again until the next morning when they both ran around the snowbanks out front and drove the dog to the brink of insanity.
It's going to be a fun Spring!
**1 It's the Young Master's favorite channel, best watched by turning wrong-way-round on the couch and mashing one's nose against the window behind, whilst one's tail drapes off the edge of the couch where human legs typically go. But at the very least, he looks comfortable. It doesn't work for me, but he's happy.
