Robin Dangerfield

“Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean / The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green / The snowbird sings the song he always sings / And speaks to me of flowers / That will bloom again in spring…” – Anne Murray

     

Ranting robin: Tweet Tweet @$%#!

When I pulled into my driveway last week and saw the first red-breasted robin of spring on my front lawn, it didn’t look like it was in the mood to sing a happy melody. No sweet chirping. Not even a peep. It just looked at me and cocked its head to the side as birds do. I could almost read its mind from its expression.
     “Seriously?” the robin thought. “It’s Spring. You know, Spring with a capital S. The season just before Summer.”
     The bird hopped down from the snow pile onto what was once my lawn. “Snow?” it asked quizzically, shaking ice off its tiny claw. It’s beak pecked the frozen grass. “What? Am I too early? I thought the early bird gets the worm. Not me. I get frostbite.”

     The robin looked up at my house. “Love your decorative flag that says Welcome Spring! Is that some kind of a joke? Maybe it’s not too late for your wife to return it to The Christmas Tree Shop and get her money back. Better yet, exchange it for one that says What Spring?”     The bird flitted onto my front porch step. “Nice Easter decorations! I’m surprised the holiday wasn’t cancelled due to the cold weather. So much for the annual Easter egg hunt.. It’s going to be hard to hide eggs under the ice, let alone find them.”

     “And another thing,” it said, “thanks for setting the clocks ahead so early this year. That really threw nature for a loop. Most of the wildlife around here thinks it’s still the middle of winter. I hear there are a couple of brown bears at the Stone Zoo who are still sleeping. They’re waiting for winter to end before they wake up – hopefully in August!”

     I grabbed my grocery bags from my car and took a step toward the bird thinking it would fly off as I approached. Instead, it hopped up a couple of more steps. It furrowed its brow at me and squinted its black beady eyes.

     “Do you know Spot Pond is still frozen?” it said. “The sign that says 'No Swimming' is going to say 'No Ice Skating' year round now” It hopped up another step and unfurled its wings. “What happened to Global Warming? I was just getting used to it. Even the Canada Geese are complaining about the cold. There are flocks of them staying in Florida permanently instead of migrating back to Massachusetts for the summer. 'Aren’t you going to miss the change of seasons?' I asked them. 'What change of seasons?' they said. Go figure.”

     The robin hopped up two more steps. “Look around. Not even a baby crocus in sight. They’re usually in full bloom by now. The tulip bulbs are locked up tighter than New England oysters. If we’re lucky they’ll be blooming by the Fourth of July, or as I like to call it Christmas in July around these parts.”

      “Great,” I said. “Not only do I have a disgruntled robin on my front porch, but it sounds like Rodney Dangerfield."

     The robin flew to the top step of my porch and continued its rant. “I know it’s been cold, but you could at least keep the bird feeder full . Oh wait, you can’t, because the birdseed is in the shed and the doors are still covered with a foot of icy snow. Thanks a lot, mister.”

     Now I was getting ruffled. “Look,” I said, “I don’t like this weather any more than you do. I was happy to see your bright red chest adding a splash of color to all this gray. You’re supposed to be a harbinger of Spring, not a disgruntled messenger of bad tidings.”

     “Ah,shaddup,” the robin said.

     I lunged forward and stamped my foot on the porch step to scare away the angry bird. It spread its wings and leaped into the sky, narrowly missing my head with its pointy black beak as it screeched by my ear.
     As it flew away, it turned its head and squawked, “You really need to paint your front porch!”

     Summer can’t come fast enough for me.