Poor Thing

I honestly thought he was injured, when I saw him through the kitchen window.  He was lying on the floor of the deck, writhing pathetically, dragging himself across the floor, legs and wings all akimbo, a once handsome red northern cardinal. Had he broken his neck flying into the window? 

Oh but no. As I watched further, wondering if I had the guts to somehow put him out of his misery, it soon became apparent that, far from being injured, he was displaying himself to the object of his affection, the  lovely female cardinal on the banister. She looked as alarmed as I was---crest up, eyes blinking in an incredulous stare. Amazingly, that pitiable act of contortion on the floor of the deck outside my window was the cardinal's mating dance. 

Surely, I thought, the gal on the banister would not fall for this ridiculousness. Wrong. Fall for it she did, but not until playing a little hard to get, hopping along the banister, teasing him, looking over her shoulder, almost as if laughing. When he flew to her on the banister, having righted his twisted self, she flew off to a nearby branch in the cherry tree. He followed to settle on the branch beside her, suddenly the picture of health, She flew to a higher perch. He followed again. After repeating this game of cat and mouse a few times,  they flew off together into the woods... 

After it was all over, I couldn't help chuckling at that boy cardinal on the deck. I regret that thinking he was injured kept me from grabbing my camera until it was too late to capture him on film. Nor could I help comparing him to the males of any species, including my own, for the impressive lengths they go to in the pursuit of love. As my mother used to say in response to all manner of observations about life, "Thus it has ever been."   ~dkm 5-6-23