Alfred Hitchcock would have loved this psychotic robin who lurked in the holly tree outside our kitchen window for 2 weeks, throwing himself at the glass every 30 seconds from sunrise to sunset. His incessant muffled thumping was the stuff of horror flicks.
Whenever Bird Brain took a break from beating himself senseless, he’d preen in Karen’s car windows, dribbling sour scream sprinkled with rat turds down the doors.
If Fred, Yul, or I were outdoor cats, this scene would have been a “wrap” in one take, if you know what I mean. Yul seriously considered slipping outside and evading punishment by charming Karen with an edible gift of “Mystery Poultry” upon his return.
But instead, we watched Karen’s futile attempts to scare off Bird Brain by taping pictures of a tiger and peregrine falcons to the window.
The bird didn’t miss a beat. Literally.
Then she tried enlisting us for windowsill sentry duty. The bird would scram, but we had napping and noshing to do, so we soon declared a strike.
To keep Narcissis from crapping all over her Saturn while admiring himself, Karen wrapped her car mirrors in yellow newspaper bags.
Finally, Dollar Tree provided relief in the form of three sharp plastic “wind catchers” that Karen nailed outside the windows.
We haven’t heard a thump since they went up, and the car remains sour-cream-free, so the robin’s reign of terror seems to be over.
If you ask us, he got off way too easy.