Bird Brain

The forsythia! The daffodils! Spring has returned. And, unfortunately, so has Tapper the bird. Unlike the other signs of spring, I do not welcome Tapper. Each year Tapper and I engage in an epic struggle that leaves us both cranky and frustrated.

Tapper, I should point out, is not necessarily the same bird each year. The Tapper mystique is far bigger than any one being. Kind of like Shamu. Or Uga. Or Batman. The role of Tapper-- if any bird agents are reading this—- calls for a bird that is willing to fly into my living room window over and over again and to perch on the branches near my living room window and peck at it. It’s a grueling role. The bird has to be up at dawn and be willing to literally bloody himself in his pursuit of… I have no idea what.

Seriously, I can’t figure out what it is that Tapper is trying to get to. There aren’t any plants in that window so maybe he sees a reflection of my yard. But he taps away on rainy and cloudy days too so I don’t think that’s it. I’ve tried hanging things in the window—tin foil, the kids’ artwork, paper plate scarecrows – but they don’t help Tapper (or my curb appeal).

How galactically stupid is this bird? Right now I have little bits of what I can only assume is bird blood all over the window. He will not give up and he will not learn. Is he like Dory in Finding Nemo and he simply forgets that he JUST FLEW INTO THE WINDOW? Does he mistake my couch for a super hot lady bird? Why won’t he just stop?! Why does this happen every year??!

And why does all this head banging kind of remind me of my own futile attempts to get my kids to stop talking to me when I’m on the phone? Maybe Tapper needs a sticker chart.