Ever feel as though you’re being watched?
Well, do you??
I can’t even set foot in the garden without Robyn the robin appearing, demanding food (aka demanding I do the weeding, so that she can follow me along the flowerbed, gathering grubs and beetles, and telling me about everything she thinks is wrong with the world). If I don’t do what she wants, she flies alarmingly close to my head at a gazillion miles per hour to get my attention. I’ve been trying to placate her with mealworms because sometimes I’m just in the garden to hang the washing on the line (or even to knit) rather than to provide an endless supply of food for grumpy birds. Even the twinnage have grown used to her antics.
She seems to like the mealworms, and I reckon I’m >this< close to persuading to her to eat from my hand.
Sometimes she comes and stares at me through the window when I’m indoors. She’s always there. I even did a double-take at work when I noticed a robin sitting outside my window. No, I had to tell myself firmly, you are miles from home and that cannot possibly be Robyn. Just stop this nonsense.
And man, is she noisy?! She may not (yet) come and sit on my hand, but she’s quite happy to scream at me from a safe distance about my inadequacies. (I have a lot of inadequacies apparently, so this takes a while.)
I can’t believe it’s got to the point where I’m being bossed about by someone four inches tall. I know she’s got children and sure, it’s tough being a parent, but is it too much to ask to be able to sit knitting in my own garden once in a while without her zooming past my head?
This post was going to be about all sorts of other things too, but Robyn has taken over. I think we know who’s in charge around here.