THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, April 12, 1996 TAG: 9604110132
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Over Easy
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
LENGTH: Medium: 81 lines
Despite the fact that we're well into April, there are few signs of spring around our house.
Last Sunday morning the Easter bunny in our back yard had icicles hanging from his whiskers, the ducks in the next block were using an ice pick to carve out a place for a nest and three azalea bushes were fighting for warmth in front of my dryer vent.
Only Sidney and his family gave any hint that the season of birth, buds and baseball was at hand.
You remember Sidney, don't you? He's the robin who made his initial appearance on our deck a year ago, then spent four weeks flying head first into a glass door, trying to join us in the family room.
We awoke every morning to the sound of large thuds and the sight of a dazed bird picking himself up off the deck and preparing for his next attack. When he wasn't trying to do himself in, he was watching our TV.
When Bob Barker invited people to come on down, Sidney took him literally.
Every time Murphy Brown fired a secretary, Sidney tried to apply for the job.
When James Earl Jones enjoined everyone to use the yellow pages, Sidney let us know that he wanted a copy so he could look up dating services.
As frustrated as he was persistent, Sidney was determined that he was going to find a big time love interest somewhere beyond the glass barricade.
Since the only living things on the other side were Bill, Charlie the Lhasa and me, his chances were not good.
Charlie snarled at him, I tolerated him and Bill, tired of cleaning bird droppings from the deck, went in search of the BB gun that hasn't been fired since he was 14.
Eventually, some equally desperate robin of the female persuasion planted herself in Sidney's line of sight, gave him a sultry look and enticed him to fly off with her.
Several days later Sidney was back at the door, showing off a beak full of building materials and a very pregnant wife.
``You sure didn't waste any time,'' I sighed as I closed the drape in a futile attempt to make him go away.
His mate just smiled demurely.
At least the demands of married life and parenthood kept Sidney from the deck for most of the summer. Occasionally he and the little woman would show up with the latest string of fledglings stretched between them.
They had a very busy season. We lost track of the litters sometime after we counted a total of nine miniature Sidneys flying around the back yard.
When fall came, the family finally packed their little robin suitcases and left town.
Last month, Charlie's snarls and a barrage of thuds announced their return. Unfortunately we don't have positive IDs yet. That may be Sidney beating his head against our door, it may be son of Sidney, multiple sons of Sidney or all of the above.
All we know is, someone - or several someones - is (are) once more glued to our screen, watching ``The Price is Right'' and waiting for James Earl Jones to come up with the dating service yellow pages.
And, since someone flew by the other day with a beak load of dead coreopsis twigs, we know at least one family is on its way to replenish our backyard bird population.
So far Charlie has gone hoarse from snarling and Bill has torn the attic apart in another futile search for the antique BB gun.
I realize that their activities are meaningless since Charlie has never done bodily harm to anything larger than an ant and Bill's most recent target was the broadside of an aircraft carrier at which he aimed a torpedo back in 1966 when something called Task Group Alpha was playing war games in the Virginia Capes practice area.
Still, both of them would love to put a scare into Sidney and all of the little Sidneys who are hanging around.
As for me, I step carefully around the white splotches on the deck, make sure the birdbath is filled and give thanks that, in the midst of crop killing freezes and April snows, there is at least one sign of spring in Hampton Roads.
I just wish that it wouldn't spend its days flying head first into my back door. by CNB