I have resigned my efforts to rid my territory of this bird. It seems to have no fear... not of my large, life like photo copies of birds of prey hanging in my windows, nor of my loud goofy noises. It doesn't seem to be startled by my sons attempts to shoot at it with full-automatic weapons. It also appears to be a somewhat educated bird or perhaps we are guilty of providing said bird with its' education. Let me explain. If the object of my extreme dislikingness has been hurling itself at the kitchen window in the morning and it observes me there, trying to sneak up with a weapon of some sort or maybe just the camera, the next day it will choose one of the kids bedroom windows instead. If I am caught there, it promptly gives me the tail and heads for the dining room. To give you a sense of the intensity with which it is hurling its' now absurdly bloated body at my windows, the airtight seal of the dining room window is now broken. Now we have a foggy reminder of this fowl visitor.
I do have to confess, I am beginning to actually feel a bit of sympathy for this guy. I think something may be seriously wrong. Why? you ask, have I made this aviary diagnosis? Well, let me tell you, this bird is now the size of a softball. We left our house the other day, only to see it taunting us from the front lawn. I rebuked the bird, yet again, then quickly re-thought my spiritual assault. What if it exploded right there in my front yard? This would be bad. Really, really bad. What would I tell my neighbors? "Sorry about the mess. I've taken up rebuking spiritually wayward animals?" You can see my dilemma.
I am attempting to I coming to terms with this ailing avian, and I have a new home front dilemma that has drawn my attention. I noticed this disruption around Saturday. I was in my room doing... who knows what, when my sensitive nose caught wind of a very distasteful odor. I snooped around a bit. Finding nothing, I absently went about my day.
Easter Sunday, two of my nephews were up celebrating Jesus with us. My sister-in-love put the littlest down for a snooze, in the pak-n-play, in our bedroom. I went to put something in our room and about fell over when my poor nose was accosted by this heinous smell. "Okay, this is not the baby, perhaps the fish tank?" Not likely, but lets hope.
Mark checked it all out to no avail. What in the world? Monday morning the aroma had matriculated beyond our room. Now the odor hung through out the house. I had a bad feeling the robin was somehow involved. Mark, being a bit more level headed, (I know,your shocked at my confession) re-called a similar smell from his childhood days. Poor Mark right? He begins to suspect a dead critter in or under the house. Upon further investigation by my brave husband, he found that he was correct, twice. He lifted the lid for the crawl space and the stench just about took him back to Haiti. What he discovered was two large, dead rats, directly under our bedroom.
While I was away at school with the kids, Mark, being the manly man that he is disposed of deceased rodents, put a fan under the house to get the stink out, and bought a deodorizer for our bedroom. I was so thankful and so grateful... until I went back into the bedroom which now smelled of cat pee?!!? What? I begin sniffing around, on a full blown mission this time. "Are you sure it was only two dead rats? You didn't see the robin laying around down there did you? Did we bring something home in a bag with cat smell on it?"
Enter Mark. "Smells way better in here right?" "It smells like cat pee now." I whine, thinking there is no end in sight to the horrid smells in my bedroom. "Really?" He queries puzzled. "I bought a lavender room deodorizer." "OHHHH! Okay. That explains it." You see, my nose and my brain are at somewhat of an impasse on this fragrance. My brain knows that lavender is supposed to be a soothing aroma, but.... my nose having gotten the message askew from my brain interprets this soothing fragrance as cat pee.
I know, clearly, I still need to see that therapist.