A right madam robin redbreast taps on my window

It is about 6 in the morning and I hear a knocking. I am annoyed, I want to sleep more so dismiss it.  Then I hear it again, insistent almost as if someone wants to come in. Or even break in. I lie rigid beneath the covers in fear, just a touch of fear, but fear nevertheless. The knocking occurs again and again at frequent but irregular intervals. I am not sure where it is. Is it downstairs? Upstairs?  At the back, the front or the side?

I creep out of bed and go to to the corridor. Almost immediately it happens again. I peep into the bunkbed room and there it is a beautiful robin redbreast with a vivid vermilion breast pecking at the double glazed window. It flies frantically up and down, flapping her wings wildly like a humming bird.

The bird sees me and darts away. I wait, motionless, but after a while I give up and get back into bed. The what I now know “as pecking” starts again  almost immediately so I crawl across the floor to the opposite side of my bedroom and slowly stand up. There she is, I feel the bird is a she, and from my bedroom I can see she is pecking her own reflection!  Of course, she thinks it’s a competitor, not herself but someone else. Robin redbreasts are know to be ferociously territorrial after all. Eventually, satisfied with her reign of terror and dominance,  she settles on the bough of a flowering succulent and picks at its seeds.

I crawl into the bunkbed room again, camera in hand and she immediately flies away. I stay in a corner and soon enough she returns, flying up and down the pane, pecking it and then settling on the bough. I slowly rise to take a photo and only get one before she flies away.

So it goes on for days. I eventually get a nice enough selection of photos and I look forward to her knocking noise every morning, even if it leaves me a bit sleepless. What I can not understand is that she flies at her reflection, thinking it an enemy, yet sees me immediately beyond the reflection. Very hard to get the shot!

Then one day she does not come. I am devastated. My birthday arrives and she is not there. Surely she knows? I’m only joking. My phone pings with congratulations, but she has disappeared. Neither the next day, nor the next 7 do I see her. I can not tell you how sad I am, especially as I know how few birds make it to adulthood due to climate change, thoughtless hunters and even, yes, flying into windows.

Day 9, after winds of 100 km all night,  I leave the house to go shopping and there on the ground is a very dead robin. I assume it is her, even though she looks deflated from death, her endearing puffiness leeched. Chica sleeps in the corner by the kitchen, soaking up the early sun and the welcome stillness,  totally oblivious to the bird as I pick her up. She is basically intact and soft, apart from a twisted limb. So no bites – it must have been the ferocious wind that threw this poor creature against the house and caused her death. Has to be.  I wrap her in aluminium and put her in, um… the kitchen bin. That might sound odd or even cruel –  usually I throw dead birds over the end of my masia into the mountain gorse. Back to the land. However, I want to look at this bird, to examine her when I return. But when the time comes, I am not able to bring myself to untangle her from all the sloppy food she sank into.  It is so undignified.   That is how she ends up in the village bins. Please forgive me.

Two days later I wake up earlier than usual and open the shutters to welcome the sun’s light gradually entering into my life. I make a coffee and sort out my usual plethora of fruits and vegetables, arranging the lot on a tray that I place on my night table.  I’m still waiting for the knocking, just in case. It does not come, but I look out the bedroom window all the same. No, I can not believe it!  In front of me, on the wisteria pergola, is my robin redbreast.  I take a hurried photo and she flies off to a nearby olive tree – the one I never harvest in accordance with local customs. Always leave something for the birds, they say. Oh, how happy I am !  My robin redbreast. Beautifully vermillion and that “madam” look.  Was the one I found her partner?  I’ll never know. This one is pecking at the olives instead of at her reflection. Finally she worked that out!

As it has not rained much  in 2.5 years and the land is very dry, I place a bowl of water on the terrace table. It excites Chica so much that I move it higher onto the sloping cactus bed around my water deposit (cisterna). Now she perches on the railings above and dives down for a drink.  Then she returns to the olive tree, hidden in its branches and impossible to photograph.

But I am so relieved she is still here. If only everyone’s life was so simple. You know what I mean –  I hope.

Here are some more links re disappearing bird species across the world, some hope too:

Europe

USA

Asia

Russia/Ukraine

China

Australia

Africa