How do I know, you ask.
Someone came to my door and announced it, that’s how.
Well, not exactly someone.
A bird. That’s what has been coming to my door with the news that it’s Birds-Attacking-The-House Season.
At his particular time — and I mean like right now; there have been three or four bird collisions with the door near my desk just since I started writing this—the attacks are being waged by a female cardinal. Her nest is in a hemlock tree right beside a door with a big window in front of the desk where I write these columns each week.
Poor thing. Bashing herself into windows all over the back of the house.
And what a pointless activity, flying repeatedly into a thermopane reflection of your own image to chase yourself away. It would be like you or me attacking a mirror every time we walked past it. But then the expression “bird brain” has never been used in connection with any advanced problem solving strategies.
The robins are nesting now, as well. For some reason — probably a conflict with the cardinals on my office door window — the robins prefer to fling themselves against my living room windows.
At least I am no longer having problems with the other migratory nitwits I used to deal with during Birds-Attacking-The-House Season: woodpeckers.
They are among the prettiest birds in the forest. And I love hearing them hard at work in the early morning on some distant, hollow tree.
But until I made a big, expensive change to my cedar siding, more often than not the rat-a-tat-tat sound I heard was coming from the exterior walls of my very own home.
And those rascals were persistent: they had no trouble at all pecking right through to the Tyvek wrap in a single afternoon..
Now, I am enjoying woodpeckers again — especially since they discovered a long-dead elm tree in the nearby ravine which is apparently full of insects.
And don’t get me wrong — I enjoy the cardinals, too. What’s not to like by the most colorful bird in the yard, especially their smile-inducing songs.
I just hope I never have to look out and see one of them chirping out the bird version of “Call 9-1-1! My spouse just broke something while attacking what appeared to be another very attractive bird in your back window.”
Before I know it, of course, Birds-Attacking-The-House Season will give way to Ants-In-The-House season. It’s not that big of a deal, really; maybe a couple dozen ants over the next few weeks, usually when it is raining or very damp outside.
The ants don’t really do any damage that I can see, but they are an annoyance. We stomp and smack and spray the little buggers until the weather dries out, and we no longer see the ants.
More of a problem is Deer-Eating-The-Landscape-Plants-Season.
Of course there are not as many landscape plants for them to eat this year. That’s because in years past they have already destroyed most of the plants they really like to eat from the Busek Salad Bar, especially the hostas — and I had a lot of them.
I know what you’re thinking: this guy — who hasn’t even mentioned Scratchy-Noises-Under-The-Overhangs-At-Night Season — needs an exterminator.
And I’ve looked into it.
But it’s not like I have rats or roaches or something really repulsive.
Similarly, by my calculations, the cost of an exterminator breaks down to about eight dollars per ant or hosta.
Frankly, I’d rather spend eight dollars apiece on something that gives me more pleasure than critter extermination.
And that is very easy to do since it is always Deluxe-Sandwich-Platter-Season.
Jim Busek is a free-lance writer who lives in Norwalk. He can be reached via e-mail at [email protected] hotmail.com.