Bird Brain

We have an upper deck with a hot tub. Don't bother finding an excuse to come by; it's non-functional. But there is a clear glass section of the railing that birds are convinced they can fly through.

I was walking out to the garage when I heard a BANG from the top deck. I thought it was the new cat from next door, who has been causing drama. Nope. When I got to the top of the stairs, there it was. A robin was on her back, little birds and stars flying around her head.

She did not look great, but what the heck. I did my best interpretation of Mr Miyagi, slapped my hands together, rubbed them to get the ol' healing friction going, then picked her up and told her she was going to be okay.

It took about 10 minutes of me just standing there holding this bird while she sorted out how she felt about her near-death experience. Eventually I had to put her down so Jenn and I could get to an important meeting with the great folks at Whiskers & Whimsy.

I took the wee birb to one of our watering stations and set her down. Charlie and Mabel were watching from the catio. Intrigued.

Anyway, long story short: I ordered bird decals for the railing so this doesn't happen again, and when we got back from the meeting, the robin was gone. She might have been murdered by an osprey or a bobcat, but I'd much prefer imagining she grabbed a quick drink of water for the road and flew back to her nest and her anxious family, where she regaled them with tales of how she made friends with a human.

Birbs are great storytellers.