Kamikaze Cardinal

by PETE DUNNE

Illustration by Debbie Shaw

Thud.

"Paperboy couldn't hit the ocean from the shore," you think through your post-slumber/prewaking fog.

THUD.

"Delivery by section today?" you wonder (with growing irritation).

THUD.

"If it's Sunday, that must be the sports section."

Thud!...Thud!...Thud!

"For the love of...." you mutter, rising, stumbling across the room, throwing open the shade, peering into the half light of dawn.

"There, sitting on a branch five feet from your bedroom window is the crested red bird you spent all winter trying to woo from your neighbor's feeder. As you watch, the bird launches itself and flies directly at your face, crashing into the window.

Thud!

Congratulations. You've got your cardinal.

Condolences, too. Know it or not; like it or not, your sleep schedule has just been reprogrammed. From this morning on, reveille is at dawn-the hour territorial cardinals start defending their territories.

The Territorial Prerogative

Territoriality is a strategy of survival and genetic perpetuation. Over much of the globe and among many different creatures, individuals of a species (or groups of individuals sharing a biological heritage) defend a territory from intrusion by other members of that species.

For the most part this defense is passive, or potential, not aggressive. When birds sing, they are signaling potential rivals that this corner of the planet is theirs and that the other bird's little bit of heaven must be somewhere else.

So back off.

When a male black bear reaches up and rakes a tree trunk with his claws, he is saying to all other male bears: "If you can't reach this high you are standing in the wrong place, bub."

Beat it.

But sometimes rivals don't get the message or conclude that victory is a means of pragmatic verification, and elect to settle the dispute physically. Contests among most species are short-lived. Unless two individuals are very evenly matched, combat is usually broken off as soon as it becomes clear which rival is the superior combatant.

What's this got to do with the stupid cardinal trying to break into the house?

Everything. The bird is not attempting a break and entry. The bird is defending its territory from the other male cardinal. What other male cardinal? The one reflected in the glass of your window. The bird is seeing its reflection, mistaking it for another bird in its territory, and trying to drive it away. But since the reflection is impervious to attack, and persists (in the bird's mind) in its challenge, your resident cardinal knows no other recourse but to continue throwing itself against the phantom challenger in an effort to drive it away.

How long do these jousts last?

Hours, sometimes. Off and on all day. But the peak activity period is usually mornings, dawn, particularly during the early part of the nesting season when cardinals really get their crests up about their territory.

Well, how long is the nesting season?

In New Jersey, it runs from February to August. Months.

MONTHS!!!!!!!

Months. Cardinals can have two, three, even four broods during a nesting season. The news gets worse. Female cardinals can be just as determined as males in regards to dealing with rivals, real or perceived.

There's more bad news. Cardinals are not the only birds that are fooled by reflecting surfaces. The American Robin is also easily gulled by glass. Not only are robins more common than cardinals, they compete in a higher weight class.

Incidentally (although this might not be your primary concern at the moment), the chances of the bird doing permanent injury to itself are slight. In most cases the bird's launch point is so close to the glass that it can't build up enough speed to do itself harm.

Fine. So how do I get the bird to stop?

There are several remedies. First, if prudent, remove the perch from which the bird is launching its attacks. If the bird cannot sit where it sees its reflection it won't attack. The attractiveness of this alternative diminishes if the bird is launching itself from, say, the railing of your porch or the rain gutter on your shed. In this case....

Try replacing the storm window with a screen. It will diminish the reflective properties of the glass and, even if the bird persists, soften the impact.

Perhaps the best (albeit the least aesthetic) alternative is to get a bar of soap and soap up the outside of the window. This will eliminate the reflection, and while you might have to do a touchup after a rain, it sure beats waking at first light.

Pleasant dreams.