archie bunker

My name is Toni Hedren.

I mean, Tippi Hedren.

I mean, I was me, doing my version of her in Alfred Hitchcock's 1963 smash hit, The Birds. Life imitates art, if you will.

See, this Robin built her nest in my door wreath. She even borrowed some of the fake foliage (the nerve). So, I moved it for her (free of charge) after verifying that she had not yet laid eggs in it. Honestly, I believe her evil plan started that very day. As in, I think she was just waiting to get me back. And well, today was her day (grrrr!)

I went next door to the neighbors for a few minutes. On my way back, I decided to yet again peek in on the four adorable growing fledglings to see if they had left the nest yet. Mind you, I showed at least eight kids the little darlings just yesterday. And you'll please note that when I checked on them in recent days, they sat all squatty-like, barely fitting in the nest, and never made a single sound or movement the whole time.

And mind you too, the mother bird was not your typical robin. For one, her mate was never around. And oddly, she was very tolerant of our neb nosing. She didn't squawk and fly at us like Robins usually do if you come near their babies. She would just sit quietly and watch. And now I get it. She wasn't just behavin'. Nooooo, Ms. Red Breast had a plan. And I was her target.

So, back to peekin' in. I pulled back the pine branches to take a little look-see. There they were, all four. Only, it was a different scene today. Normally, they were all squished in together as rising biscuits in a bread pan. Today though, one lone birdie sat upright, almost on the backs of the others who were still huddled in their status quo position.

Now, think "split second" with me here. Because in the time it took me to move the branches aside and make note of the slight difference in my find, SQUAAAAAAAAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That upright birdie fluttered his baby wings and made his maiden attempt at flight,...straight for my head. And IMMEDIATELY, the other three followed suit like darts to a dartboard.

And please note that my front yard has quite a slope to it and I nearly fell down as I SCREAMED LIKE A GIRL and backed away. And as I backed up, I heard fluttering and squawking at the back of my head. I turned to see DOUBLE BARRELED red breasts, fully prepared to restyle my hair (though I still believe they were going for my eyeballs). THE PARENTS! (Daddy bird, just where have you been until now?) They kept flying at me and squawking and flapping their angry wings (which, I'll have you know, seem to have a four foot wing span when you're seeing them up close in super 3-D). And they chased me as I swatted and ducked and tripped and screamed all the way to my front door.

SLAM! Hyperventilate. Check for flesh wounds. Wave hands at face for dramatic effect. Open windows to look for assailants. And what do I find? Well, for starters, one of the babies was below my window making "here I am" calls to his parents. Great! And Daddy Robin had his feathers up like a Cockatoo. Only, he's clearly not a Cockatoo, so I liken it to a hissing cat with its back hairs raised. Either that or a punk rocker with a serious 'tude. And (gulp) he flies at me in the window. IN. THE. WINDOW, I tell you. And I scream again because apparently I haven't learned my lesson yet.

And what else do I hear through my open window? Well, when those crazy birds made such an unnecessary ruckus (really!), it apparently set off some kind of code of honor or backup or buddy system or whatever because every Finch and every Sparrow within a mile of my home was now in my front lawn tree and they were singing some sort of angry battle song and I just knew if I stepped back outside just then, they'd all gang up on me and finish business I never should have started. Intimidation is a successful tactic!

So now, what e-l-s-e did I hear out the window as I caught my breath, gathered my wits and blotted my brow? I can hardly bring myself to share this part with you, but,.....laughter. I heard serious laughter. My neighbors (several, mind you) had witnessed the entire ordeal while working in their yards and they were LAUGHING at me. I wanted to stomp my foot and defiantly say, Hey! The Birds was a huge success and people still love that film now, after all these years. And you should consider it a privilege to see my real life reenactment. All at my expense, mind you." My one neighbor even said (still laughing, of course),
"I mean, it wasn't funny. But you, you,..."

"I know," I sorely shot back, "I looked so funny."

"Yeaaaah!" (followed by uncontrolled fits of laughter. Thanks!)

And to top it all off, I felt so guilty for sending them out of the nest in a tizzy that I came up with one of my many hairbrained schemes. I went in the kitchen and retrieved our supply of fishing worms (for our pond) and tried to hand feed one of the babies who was hanging out on my front porch. As if! Suffice it to say I quickly found my dense self back in the house again in no time flat.

Which reminds me of the time Carl tried to get our puppy away from a baby Blue Jay back in Ohio and he ended up with bleeding talon marks in his scalp (HA!), but that's another story for another day.

Me, Tippi.
Who knew?

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Matthew 6:26(NIV)

Toni