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Show Edgar Allen Poe with his raven knocking at the door had nothing on us. We've got a robin knocking knock-ing at the window. Everyone with big picture windows has experienced the demise of birds failingto see the glass and hitting it head-on. head-on. This is different. This robin is obviously establishing his territory. He was probably born somewhere some-where in .this half -block, never leaves it very far, even in the winter, and violently vio-lently opposes the entrance of any other Cock Robin into his realm. But this old boy is stupid. He doesn't realize that the robin he sees staring out of our living room, is really himself in reflection. When we're home and he tears into his reflection, we move about a bit to startle him away so he won't hurt himself. Lordy knows what he gets done while the house is empty. Well, I wish him luck. I hope he chases out all the would-be interlopers and collects a dozen Hen Robins strictly for himself. But he doesn't really need to do it while he's knocking at our window. (Sure glad he doesn't moonlight on a midnight shift.) Remember when we all thought robins went south for the winter? That supposition sup-position has been proven wrong. They're right here the year 'round, but so inactive in-active we don't notice 'em. So this must be the first sign of spring. Hallelujah! Mac. |