The Birds

JAPANESE MAPLE TREES are lovely, and my friend has one in his backyard, surrounded by a rock patio, only about fifteen feet from the back door. The tree is about ten or twelve feet tall, bushy, healthy and growing rapidly.

A few weeks ago a couple of robins built a nest in the tree about five feet off the ground, and laid three blue eggs. My friend took an immediate interest and began photographing the nest and eggs, and, whenever he could, mom and dad.

Trouble started when he started becoming bolder in his quest for photos of the parents. One gets greedy, you know. Inching  closer and closer to the nest, pushing the envelope, fortified by his presumed ownership of the property, he finally started crossing some imaginary line.

As if some bird's eye boundary had been crossed, as if response had been automatically, unavoidably triggered, the robins commenced dive bombing operations against my friend who, alarmed, initially retreated to the interior of his house.

Ensconced therein, he tried to regroup, cast off his sense of humiliation and defeat, and prepare for a suddenly uncertain future. My friend is a brave man, and he resolved to not, under any circumstances, ever again be driven in defeat from his own back yard.

When next he marched intrepedly out the back door with camera in hand, he had in his other hand - a fly swatter. And he wasn't afraid to use it. Weilding it menacingly, he perceived that this seemed to instill within the birds some degree of hesitation, as if being a bit wary about resuming hostilities.

But alas, at length, the two adults decided than my friend was more bluster than bite, and resumed attacking. My friend waved the fly swatter fiercely, never came close to either bird, didn't really want to, but alas, again was eventually forced to withdraw from the field of battle. First and second bull run, if you will.

The thought corssed my mind of suggesting to my friend that he take however many pictures were required to satisfy him, then quietly refrain from further approaches of the robin's nest, in order to spare his personal pride and, avert further conflict.

But why bother. A man's going to do what he's going to do, especially my persistant stubborn friend. Life hath no greater motivator than a human's wounded pride. I even suggested that he call the police for tactical support, or at least cover, but we decided that they would only advise him to leave the birds alone, which was not an option.

they hatched, and the little ones flew away to begin their lives with amazing quickness, perhaps having heard stories about the mad human with the weapon, and knowing what's good for them. They'll probably never again face as great a threat.