Enabling My Cardinal Friend, My Little Sisyphus

A cardinal started tapping at my window about a week ago, and, after a few attempts at conflict resolution, I've grown to respect and honor his life's Sisyphean struggle. He taps for hours each day, steadily, every four seconds or so, flying six or seven inches from the tree branch into the window and back again. Every so often he flies off to another tree in the yard for a minute or two, but comes right back to resume his determined battle with his reflection.

I began to worry about him. What a headache he must have at the end of a day! His little neck must be so sore and bruised! I wanted to tend to him, and so I researched. I put a blanket against the window to dim the reflection. I removed everything red from the room that might cause him to want to come in. I played beautiful music to still his soul. Still he pecked, a little John McCainish in his indomitable spirit! But my little cardinal is on Team B, he's not aiming too high, he'll never be rewarded with a spot at the White House, unless I cage him and take him there myself when the cherry blossoms bloom in the spring.

My cardinal reminds me of Greek mythology, and Sisyphus, doomed to push a boulder up a hill into eternity, never getting to the top because the boulder kept rolling back a little each time. My cardinal will never conclude his battle, never meet his match, never accomplish his goal. He may not be the brightest bulb in the box. God may not have blessed him with the logic he needs to change his plan. And yet his grit and determination, his intractable nature, his genealogical imperatives and perhaps his own little karma, force him to forge ahead with his pitiful little task.

So OK. I've decided to aid and abet him, to comfort and succor him, to help him fulfill his destiny. I don't allow the incessant pecking to bother me, we're in this together now, and I can use the company. I have put my grandaughter's pretty little stuffed bluebird on the windowsill. I have put the red pillow back by the window. I love my poor cardinal. I can't do anything else about the stress he endures, the pain in his little wing shoulders, his jaw, his headaches. This is his life, and he feels important and worthy. No real harm is done. I know he's wrong, but I'll stand by. I just might need a few tranquillizers in another month or so, so I don't get carried out of here in a straight jacket..