Big Daddy Gouda

My eyes popped open and focused on the clock: 6:43 a.m.

I heard the sound, tap tap (pause) tap tap. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that it had awoken me. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep.

Tap Tap. (Pause) Tap Tap.

My mind wandered for a moment. Whatever it was seemed to be coming from the next room. I looked toward the window. It seemed rainy. Perhaps the wind had blown the door open and the noise I heard was the door knob banging against the wall.

I considered just leaving it be. I was comfy and tired. I did not want to get out of bed.

I turned over and closed my eyes. Instantly visions of raccoons walking into my house filled my head. Then I thought of some drifter, perhaps wanting to get out of the rain, and, seeing the inviting open door, taking refuge in my house.

Okay, that was it. I popped out of bed and left my room.

I walked down the hall into the adjacent room where the tapping was coming from. To my surprise, the door was closed. What the hell was making that noise?

I heard it again. My eyes followed the noise to the only window in the room. There perched outside the window, staring into the house, was a bird. It was black with an orange spot on its chest. I don’t know what kind of bird it was but it was the bird that you probably see the most in this part of the state. Just a bird.

The bird then flew from the branch it was perched on and crashed into the window, making the tap tap sound that woke me up. It bounced off  the glass and once again settled on the branch. After a few seconds it repeated the process, flew into the window, bounced off, and landed back on the branch.

I immediately assumed the bird had accidentally flew into the window, knocked itself silly and now was simply crazy: Banging its head against the window for no reason, not realizing that it was slowly killing itself.

I walked toward the window and the bird flew away. I shook my head and went back to bed.

Two hours later the all too familiar tapping had returned. The bird was back. This time, since I knew what the noise was, I really did try to ignore it.

I lasted about 15 minutes. This damn bird was persistent. Like clockwork, every 30 seconds, Tap Tap (pause) Tap Tap.

I groaned, got out of bed and headed back to the window. I paused as I entered the room. Sure enough, the crazy bird was back, smashing his body into the window every half minute.

Maybe there were more possibilities than this bird simply being bat shit crazy. Perhaps there was something in the room it wanted. I looked around but saw nothing that would be appealing to a bird: An old ping-pong table covered with junk and a flashlight were all I noticed in the room.

Then my crazy mind that had seen too many movies started to wander. Perhaps there was an evil presence in my house and the bird was drawn to it. Perhaps this bird was possessed by the devil or perhaps it was some sort of zombie bird that wanted to feast on my delicious brains.

I moved toward the window and as it had before the bird flew away.

This time instead of going to bed I sat in front of the computer and immediately went to the all knowing google.com.

I typed in the words “bird trying…” and immeditely the google search bar filled in the rest:  ”…to get into window.”

50 million results came up. Thank God. I wasn’t alone.

Well, after searching about 5 Web sites, the explanation for the bird’s behavior became quite clear and was quite simple actually.

The bird had caught its reflection in the window, thought it to be another bird and wanted to either mate with it or attack it for getting too close to its nest.

Apparently this is a very common occurance. I should have known.

The term “Bird Brain” never held such meaning before.

The internet suggested I cover the window or the bird would keep coming back. That seemed like too much work. I followed a simpler suggestion.

I put an old stuffed animal in the window; a stuffed tiger. I figure that will keep the bird away. 

The next morning as I was preparing to take out the garbage I noticed a hole in the window about the size of a softball. The stuffed tiger was on the floor. One black feather lay beside it. The tiger’s plastic eyes were missing, having seemingly been pecked off….

Um…just kidding.

I haven’t heard the tapping since placing the tiger near the window.

But the other scenario is much cooler and would make a better movie don’t ya think?