Waylon the Bird

Last week a baby robin crash landed on our deck.

We've been nursing it back to health. The bird, named Waylon, after country music singer Waylon Jennings, has developed quite a personality over the last week and a half as it has gotten to know us. Each morning I am greeted by a loud chirping sound on my front porch, where Waylon anxiously waits by the front door (he actually wants to come inside, but our fearless fido Fred, is scared of Waylon). When I come outside, he runs circles around my feet as I walk to his food bowl. After he eats, he will either stay and purr and allow me to pet his soft feathers or he waddles away to the lilac bush at the end of the porch, to sleep for an hour before his next feeding. Last night, a curious neighbor came over to meet Waylon, who hopped down each porch stair until he reached the step I was sitting on, and then promptly sat next to me. He is a big fan of personal attention. And Food. And More Food. This morning, I rose a little after 5 am and did not hear Waylon carrying on and chirping on the front porch. I figured I had time to make some coffee. While the coffee was brewing, I stood in front of the kitchen window and started cleaning dishes in the sink. A random thud against the window startled me out of my morning haze. Looking up, I saw a bird frantically flapping his wings and trying to get a foothold on the screen. The bird then flew off to a nearby branch. As I stared at the bird, I realized it looked suspicously like the fat baby robin, Waylon. The bird, staring right back at me, charged the window again. Now mortified that Waylon was going to kill himself trying to get to me, I did the only thing I could thing of pre-coffee. I ran and woke up Josh and begged him to deal with our darling pyschotic creature. As soon as Waylon saw Josh come outside, he flew from the tree and came back to the front porch for his morning breakfast. All that, and before my coffee.