It started three days ago.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
A robin repeatedly flying head first into our kitchen window. More than a hundred times now.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
The robin has banged his head for us so many times the dog does not even look up to see what the noise is, as unremarkable as the noise of the dishwasher or the hockey on tv.
"It sure is hard to read with that motherfucker banging his head on the window all day," is what Sonja had to say after the initial novelty of the bird's act wore off.
Banging your head like that must be what it feels like to vote in an election. Or be a Canuck fan.
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