The Robin's Confusion

On a snowy Easter weekend a small drama unfolded outside. It was snowing pretty steadily and it was cold, and I was stuck inside watching snow drag the fluffy balls of viburnum flowers down.

As I watched the wintry scene I noticed a fat robin repeatedly flying in under the vigas, right by the patio door. Over and over. Clumps of twigs and dried grass began to float down, making a bit of mess  on the patio. The bird was making a nest.way too near the sliding doors and right over our patio furniture. Not good.

The chosen spot was the flat top of a terra cotta light sconce on the stucco wall. All afternoon I shooed her away, trudged out into the snow with a broom to knock down what she'd accumulated and within minutes she'd be right back with more nest material.

This kept on until I decided to put an obstacle up there. A ceramic rabbit, brought out for Easter decor, was just the right size. Not too heavy for the wall fixture, but not too light to blow away in the snowstorm. 

Mrs. Robin immediately swooped in with another beakful of twigs confidently ready for more nest building and . . . . she was abruptly stunned. 

Honestly, she did a double take in mid air.

She flopped down on the patio chair, hopping from foot to foot and cocking her head in puzzlement. She tentatively flew up to the sconce to drive the intruder away. No dice. She tried again, twigs still in her mouth and wings flapping aggressively. I could see her bafflement. She kept trying and whirling away in defeat.

For half an hour she perched on the birdbath out by the fence with her back to the patio, but looking over her shoulder at the troubling sight, then nervously turning back, then looking again, then turning away. Would it go away?

She flew in to the patio, hovered and hopped and looked so flustered, it was comical. I did not want to torture this little mother building her nest, but she had to be persuaded to find a better location. 

And so help me, I had to laugh. Her confusion was so visible, so understandable and so expressive. The drama of it was engaging to watch, but poor robin, I hoped she found another spot in the snowy yard for her nest.

But she did not. The following day she brought her mate with her and the two of them walked back and forth along the neighbor's roofline repeatedly looking back into our patio. She with twigs in her break, he bobbing his bird head quizzically.

Finally, bravely, with his mate looking on from the patio below, the male flew over and perched on the rabbit. I managed a quick fuzzy shot from inside the house where I was still being entertained by all this drama.

See, he said. Lookit me. Not a threat. It's not alive even. 

The female came back after that with nesting material, landed on the patio chair, and spent forever looking straight up at that light sconce, just staring at it. Staring, thinking: good Lord, what the heck is that? And can we build a nest on top of it? 

I hoped that was not what they were planning. 

She eventually hopped away with the twigs still in her beak, took flight, and I suppose the two robins are somewhere nearby still debating, maybe even arguing, over what to do about this confusing development.