Meet Edgar. He stands about 4 inches tall. I think he's a Common House Finch. For the past week, this little guy has been tap, tap, tapping at our family room window sill. Two, three times a day he appears, and while his wife waits timidly in the oak branches a safe distance behind him, he perches on the transom sill and peers into the window, as if he wishes he could come inside and . . . what? Build a nest? Snack on the popcorn and Cheez-It crumbs on the floor around Greg's recliner? I have no clue. Now, before you start guessing you need to know: this mystery goes far deeper than popcorn and Cheez-It crumbs. Here's a strange clue for you: This is not the first bird that has come knocking at my window. The first year we lived here a chubby, round robin started knocking--but Sherlock, NOT at the same window. Interestingly, he sat at a lower window, just next to and below Edgar's transom window--and, you should also know . . . slightly around the corner. Stop laughing. The varied location of the knocking is relevant here. Think about it, different height, different angle, and the light or reflection would be also different, now wouldn't it? (Yes, Watson. Elementary.)
I named this first bird Curtis (not relevant, but it'll help you keep it all straight in your mind), and Curtis too, came several times a day throughout the spring. There's more: Curtis came back every year for about three years. See, I told you. This is a pretty thick plot. Every clue counts. Now, since Curtis started coming the first year we'd built our little house here in the trees, we wondered if maybe he had been born somewhere in the trees surrounding the house and now wanted to have access to his old stomping grounds. Curtis REALLY wanted in. He fairly drove us crazy tapping at the pane. He could really make a ruckus, I'm tellin you.
But then one Spring, Curtis didn't come. It was a little sad. We missed him. We consoled ourselves by considering that Crazy Curtis had probably simply reached the end his robin life span and he was now happily tapping at some heavenly window somewhere else. And so we finally let go of trying to figure out the method behind Curtis' madness.
But now here we are, five springs after Curtis' departure, and two new birds, Edgar and Lenore--who, I remind you, are not even robins--show up. What the?
I'll keep you posted as the story unfolds.