Early Sunday morning I went for an walk with a colleague. We met up in Fort Langley, a small town nestled in the Fraser Valley. The trail we chose is frequented by dog walkers and runners, and rightly so as this trail meanders by a river, goes through a regional forest, and past quaint homes.
As we passed by some shrubs, I noticed the presence of songbirds, and pointed out a robin, remarking, “Look how chubby and cute he is!”
My friend replied, “Robins are NOT cute. Case in point the male Robin that has stalked the front of my home.”
“He has been rat-a-tat-tating against the windows by my front door, while perching on the planters and pooping up a storm. My husband solved this issue by putting plywood up against those windows. Bird can no longer see his reflection so we thought he would move on. Nope. He just relocated to the back of the house – this time attacking the kitchen window. Our BBQ is located under said window. Bob had just taken off the cover from the BBQ. Now we have bird poop streaming down the side of it. I instructed my husband to keep the cover on, and put some small objects along the wee window ledge. Meanwhile the bird moved away from the house, but he is now hanging out around our carport. He has taken to sitting on the side view mirrors of my car. And of course pooping. Robins are not cute. I think we are going to try purchasing one of those fake owls.”
I responded, “I think that is worth the effort, especially when birds are behaving badly.”
Wordsmithing 