This neighborhood is for the birds...

We have a bird problem.  Specifically, a territorial robin. 

I'm sure the neighbors think I'm relatively unstable since I've shouted into the backyard "Eff you!  You don't pay rent!  This is MY house!" on more than one occasion. 

It started a few years ago.  We noticed a birds nest on the back patio porch light, immediately adjacent to the back door and next to the grill.  I'm sure the bird thinks she's quite genius, securing a primo nest location that's covered by a bit of roof and kept warm by a 60W light bulb that is on intermittently.

We've attempted to set blocks on wood on top of the light, to ward off the birds.  They just build on top of the blocks.  We tried setting one block at an angle on top of the other block.  They knocked down the angled block and built the nest anyway.  We tried moving the nest, but guilt made us put it back.

This year, either Momma bird is more territorial or I've noticed it more now that I have a garden.  My garden is conveniently located 3 feet away from the area in question.  We knew there were eggs in the nest, as we tried to grill out a few weeks ago and were subsequently squawked at and dive-bombed by Momma bird.  Since then, we have more or less left her alone.  As much as I hate this bird, I can't hate babies who didn't ask to be born into this feud between Momma bird and me.  I took the long way around the house to water the garden.  I pulled weeds while Jon was mowing, safety in numbers...and noise. 

But when we returned Monday evening from a 3 day camping trip, the situation escalated.  Momma bird was dive bombing us with a noticeable malice, squawking the whole time.  Like everyone else this winter, she must've been getting busy because there were no less than 4 tiny, baby robins peeking out of the nest.  Crap.  I could have dealt with it, had I not seen her feeding her babies that evening.  The feels overcame me.  I resigned to giving up my backyard until these babies had flown the nest.  I even did some research on robins (I learned they were indeed robins) and found out the babies take an extra few days on the ground before they fly away.

Last night, tragedy struck.  I came home to discover that the nest, block of wood and all, had tumbled 6 feet from the light and onto the concrete patio.  It was a grizzly sight, which made me feel sad and nauseous.  I didn't want them to die, I just wanted them to let me tend to my yard without being attacked.  Jon came home shortly thereafter and we were discussing what to do with the nest.  Momma bird was surprisingly still and quiet as we assessed the scene.  Then one of the tiny, baby robins moved.  Out of four, one of them survived the crash and was pinned beneath the nest and block of wood.  It would be heartless to ignore it, so Jon put some gloves on and used a spade to put the block of wood inside a plastic crate, place the nest back on top of it (as it had been on the light) and gently move baby into the nest.  The others we placed in a planter nearby...the reasoning was that I thought Momma bird might think we stole the others or need to mourn a little longer.  I don't know, it felt cruel to just toss them in the trash.

The baby bird (who I accidentally named Herbert and from here on, I shall refer to him as such) chirped a few times to let Momma bird know he was okay.  Momma bird immediately began chirping back and dive bombing us away.  So we went back inside and took a bike ride to get dinner.  I checked on them again when we returned and Momma bird was perched nearby, observing the situation with caution. 

This morning when I checked on the nest, Momma bird was nestled in keeping Herbert warm.  She squawked and put up a bit of a fuss when she noticed me watching from the window, but she never went far.  Later I watched as Papa bird fed a worm to Herbert, then Momma came back and nestled into the nest again before I finally left for work.  Oh and I really wanted to do something for the bird family...so I tossed a few raisins out onto the patio quickly before they could fly into the house and peck my eyes out. 

I just want to state for the record, I DIDN'T KNOCK THE NEST DOWN.  I wasn't even there and I'm pretty sure it was probably one of you not understanding how physics works.  Please stop attacking me, I don't hate you quite as much as I did before and rest assured I will do my best to make sure little Herbert survives into birdhood.  However, I warn you that once that day comes - you will be evicted.  Chicken wire, blocks of wood with nails coming out, pepper spray, whatever it takes. 

For now you have my sympathy, and a temporary truce.  But this IS my house, my garden, and my (okay, my husbands...) grill and I WILL NOT be terrorized by a cocky, jerkoff robin. 

"The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth and upon every bird of the heaven," Genesis 9:2