Why Did the Drunk Robin Keep Banging Against the Window?

Hint: It was not to get to the other side of the road. Or to the bar.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

- (possibly) Albert Einstein

Wednesday we woke up to a banging noise. It seemed to be coming from the breakfast room, but it was hard to distinguish at first, what with the woodpecker going at it outside our bedroom and a medley of cheep-cheeps and cheer-ee-ohs and jimmy-jimmy-jimmies sifting in through the open window along with a cool morning mist.

Now that the oaks are finally leafing out, it’s a regular bird-o-rama around here.

It took a cup of coffee and rubbing sleep from the eyes to realize what was going on: A robin was throwing himself at the window. Or windows. Probably the best feature of our little house is the light we get in the breakfast room from floor-to-ceiling windows and the glass back door. To be clear: all of this glass is mullioned, so our bird had not mistaken the windows for free air space.

Our robin was a fat fellow, with the requisite tomato-hued waistcoat, dark gray topcoat and a bright yellow beak. Apparently a male robin’s beak turns a brighter yellow during mating season. That sunny hue is also the sign of a good diet – lots of berries with carotenoids.

I thought he might be courting himself – seeing his reflection and thinking it was a lovely mate-in-waiting. This worried me greatly. I could only think of Narcissus, and things did not end well for him.

I tried to dissuade our robin from further battering. Already I was thinking of him as “our robin,” because he alone of all the rather brazen robins in our yard appeared to think our back deck was his territory.

Territory – that turned out to be the problem here, not romance. My vast scientific research (web browsing) revealed that our robin was likely interpreting his reflection as another male adversary. So what he was actually doing was attacking the window, not throwing himself at it. During mating and nesting season, male robins get pretty riled up about territory. My trusted source said that fortunately the birds don’t tend to injure themselves by dueling with a window – at least not the way they do when they accidentally fly into one. But still I was worried.

At first I grabbed parchment paper, scribbled all over it with a Sharpie, and taped it to the windows. This did not deter him. (Note for future bird mediation: the paper or other distraction – such as grid marks made from soap bars — should be on the outside of the window, according to the internet bird gurus.)

I noticed he was perching on the little wooden bench between the two Adirondack chairs on the deck. This was a perfect spot to view his rival and launch himself, beak-first, at the window. I moved the bench.

He moved to one of the Adirondack chairs.

“C’mon buddy,” I said, frustrated. “I’ve got to get to work.”

Later my husband moved all the furniture. What we noticed was that every chair and table within view of the back windows had several days worth of bird poop on it – something we’ve never had in past years. Our robin had even been sitting and pooping in my pot of pansies. This guy was serious about marking his territory.

Not to be deterred, our bird took a new tactic on Thursday: he went around the corner (the deck wraps around the breakfast room) and sat on the gas grill. The gas grill, however, turns out not to offer a great viewing angle. So he hopped over to the deck railing and hung there for a bit. But now he seemed to be holding off on lunging at the window.

Perhaps he was sober. Don’t laugh. Drunk robins are a thing. They eat a lot of berries (remember this guy had a bright yellow beak!), and in the late winter and early spring when berries have been on the branch for a while, they can be fermented. So occasionally robins are observed bobbing and weaving like they’ve had a few too many.

I don’t really think our robin was drunk though. The thing is, anyone – bird, dog, man – can repeat the same action over and over again, expecting a different result. And of course not getting it. This has been called the definition of insanity. It’s not sober behavior of course, but you don’t have to be blitzed to bang your head against the wall repeatedly. (She says, opening that damn bag of chocolate chips once again, eating a bowlful, and feeling queasy.)

And I think it’s not quite fair to either head-banging or insanity (which, after all, is complete madness) to lump them together. Somewhere at the root of seemingly irrational repetitive behavior is a passionate — and admirable — conviction that just one more try will meet with success.   

I was thinking about our robin the other night while listening to a group of ex-drunks concur about one thing: they all tried to quit drinking on their own – over and over and over and over and over again – before finally reaching out for help and grabbing the gift of grace.

Their story (our story, my story) goes like this: Wake up in morning hungover. Feel terrible, swear never to drink again. Midday, feel better. Hey, feel pretty good. Afternoon, think this drinking thing is really no problem. Evening: Take the circuitous route home to stop by the liquor store, again. Just like every night. Drink all night, crash. Wake up. Self-flagellate. Repeat the rinse cycle.

Talk about head-banging!

For an alcoholic whose disease has progressed to the late stages, the physical craving is the fuel for this bizarre behavior, and it’s nearly impossible to extinguish the flame once it’s lit. But there are mental drivers, too – starting with a self-protective desire to be in control – a belief that no one can fix a situation but you, and you alone.

For the robin, well, he’s mostly acting on instinct and doing what evolution has directed him to do, even if it does drive him a little mad.

But for all the rest of us in the vast grey area in between, there’s a degree of vigilance required. We have to foster self-awareness so that when the head-banging gets loud we can actually hear it. We have to be willing to take suggestions, to try doing things a different way, to make small and big changes, to drive east instead of west. To ask for help when we need it.

And to leave the chocolate chips at the grocery store where they belong.

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