There we stood: Two gladiators mustering all the bravado we could. He, ruby red and black — a steely look in his beady eyes; me, in a flaming shirt I hoped would accentuate the fiery darts shooting from my hard-set eyes. The only thing separating us: A double-paned sheet of glass. We were set to do battle. Let the contest begin!
For the second consecutive year, we have had to endure the incessant “thwack, thwack, thwack” from sunup to late afternoon — every … single … day — as a young robin stands his ground, defends his territory and wards off potential competitors for the affections of a lady love residing in our yard. The only thing is — he is battling himself! Or, if you’d rather, he is battling his own reflection [in our relatively new patio glass door].
If I wasn’t so concerned about his well being — a pane of glass is a pretty solid, stalwart opponent — tired of cleaning up his mess [we’ll leave it at that], and just plain exhausted from chasing him off every few minutes [I am getting little done these days — all because of him. I consider it a small miracle I got this blog done!], I’d find this spectacle comical. He, or “Rosey”, as we have dubbed him, must be hurting himself. These aren’t gentle tappings at the door. Like I said, they are heavy thwack, thwack, thwacks. They must hurt!
As we two gladiators face off each day, I can’t help but think about Star Wars [everything has a SW connection 
] — in this case, the Geonosis arena battle scene in “Attack of the Clones”. Each time I march out to the living room, flapping my wings, and Rosey [named for famed football player Rosey Grier] darts to the deck crossbeam a mere 10 feet away. He struts back and forth along its length, and I feel like Rosey is sizing me up just like the nexu appeared to do in his contest with Padmé. The nexu already had scaled the pole to which Padmé was chained — twice — but Padmé’s quick thinking thwarted those two attacks. The tenacious beast paced at the pole’s base, and as it considered its next line of attack, Anakin’s harnessed reek came barreling up to trample the unsuspecting cat-like creature — saving Padmé from certain death.
When Anakin and Padmé enter the Geonosis arena, they do so to the cheers of a roaring crowd ready to watch the pair and Obi-Wan Kenobi meet horrible deaths. When I hear that thwack, thwack, thwack pummeling the window pane, and I walk into what now has become my own Geonosis arena, I do not hear the roar of a crowd. But if there was such a clamor, would the crowd be cheering for me or for Rosey? That, I cannot say. 
In AOTC, it isn’t long before the arena’s combat zone becomes a free-for-all thanks to the arrival of the Jedi, who have come to rescue the prisoners, and a legion [or so it seems] of battle droids, intent upon stopping them, enter the fray. Where are my heroes come to save me from this pesky feathered creature? Come to think of it, if I could harness Anakin’s gift of taming animals, maybe I could impress upon Rosey that it is in his best interest to stop this rather harmful behavior of his!
While I have absolutely no intention of doing any harm to Rosey, I most definitely can understand — and empathize — with Obi-Wan when, in the heat of battle, 
he realizes the acklay is coming up behind him. Obi-Wan turns with determination and resolve. “Enough is enough!” he seems to be thinking, and takes his blue-bladed lightsaber, slices off two of the acklay’s foreclaws, swipes the blade across its neck, and impales the “pesky” creature. I am at that point — where enough is enough. I am at my wit’s end, but I will not let my frustration drive me over the brink to the Dark Side. After all, Rosey is doing only what comes naturally. However, shouldn’t there be some way to make this ruby-breasted creature understand that this behavior is not good for him?
Up here — in the frozen tundra otherwise known as Wisconsin — the American Robin is a harbinger of spring. We look forward to its reappearance every March. This year’s first sighting [in our neighborhood] was March 8. [We always mark the auspicious date on our calendar. ] Although spring is weeks and weeks away [it doesn’t matter what the calendar says; in fact, yesterday, May 14, we had snow!], we delight in the bird’s return because we know — without a shadow of a doubt — that one day the mercury will rise above 60 degrees, and stay there consistently! If that isn’t enough to warm our blood after a long, cold winter, the sweet song trilling from the robin’s melodious throat can lift one’s spirits. How wonderful is that!
At best, my efforts to thwart Rosey’s continuous battle with himself has kept the feathered creature at little more than arm’s length away. The plastic owl I purchased was a waste of money. The attached tag noted, “to keep vermin away.” It’s head even rotates with the most gentle of breezes to give it a true-to-life look. I posted that on the railing next to the patio door. Its effect? Rosey merely ignored it. I felt like he was laughing at my meager effort. “You have to get rid of any reflection the window creates,” the manager at the backyard bird shop informed me. I had deduced that from my on-going battle with Rosey, but she only was trying to be helpful. Shall I have a chat with the sun, and ask it to stop shining for the next few weeks?
Has Rosey given up? No. He flies to the deck, lands on the crossbeam, and paces back and forth figuring out his next line of attack. I know he does. It’s Homeowner vs. Beast. The jury is still out as to who will emerge the ultimate victor. All I can say at this point is — it will be nice when the end of May comes, and Rosey has ceased this dance of his. I’d like to be able to string more than two or three words together in a sentence before being “called” to do battle yet once again. Gee, there he goes again…
Until next time,
MTFBWY
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