I saw a robin in the neighbor’s tree while I was bringing in groceries. Turns out of course that robins remain as time-worn foreshadowing signs of winter’s demise in our part of the world. I assumed I was viewing a new mom based on the season and the bird’s relative sturdiness.
“Why aren’t you building your nest?” I asked with a typical midwestern disinterested accent that is all too common around here.
“Mind your own business,” he snapped. “Do I look like I’m full of eggs?”
I apologized sincerely and looked past this bird’s attitude until he called out the kids’ deceased cat.
“Where’s your cat? I hear he can’t even catch a cold since his kidneys shut down last winter. We were laughing about that all the way down in Texas.”
“You should be nicer, Robin.”
“You should quit talking to birds in your driveway and get the damn house sold.” he replied.
“You’re right. I’ll do so right away, Mr. Robin.”
The robin responded with a “Dayumm right Bitch” and shifted his feathers to mask his shape so no one else will think he’s pregnant.
I looked toward the other neighbor’s tree across the street. Then toward the robin, who started singing his “victory song”.
My good friend, the Owl was perched and dozing in the hollow far up the tree across the street. His eyes opened wide and blinked twice when I gestured toward the robin singing at the top of his lungs in my neighbor’s tree. Owl nodded and closed his eyes again.
Friendships are important.