So one of dearest friends (I’ll call her “Cookie” for now)… ever steadfast in our years of friendship …has offered her shoulder (and counsel) during my Cardinal crisis.  Cookie whole-heartedly sympathizes with my predicament (and worries too, I imagine, over the poodle’s welfare since the barking has gotten mighty annoying and has turned me into a Purple Minion at times).  As for the latter, Cookie should fear not; no harm will ever come to my beloved poodle although the poodle probably thinks otherwise.  Point in fact:  Ask the poodle about the volume on the house sound system.  Currently Rachmaninoff is blaring on the radio. Even the floor is vibrating.  I figure if the music is loud enough, the poodle won’t hear Harold.  The fact that poodle may go deaf is but a hazard of war.

Anyhow. Cookie agrees that Mr. Harold Headbanger’s behavior falls under the “seriously malfunctioned” category and she is just as perplexed at Harold’s dogged persistence as I am.  OK…I still believe Harold is just plain stupid!  But Cookie also brings up a point that until now totally escaped me:  Cardinals mate for life.

I’d forgotten about this fine point.

I read this line in an email Cookie sent me earlier today.  I’m reading it rather hurriedly in fact as I’m walking into the gym.  As I read her Cardinals mate for life statement I think for a moment…

and this is relevant to my situation how?

Until I read on:  “If his life-mate has perished he may be so distraught that he sees only to defend the memory of her.”  She goes on to suggest that this behavior might never end….

Oh my!

Not only that, but she contends with hundreds of Cardinals in her beautiful yard.

Wowza!  She is my hero.

I must admit the whole mate-for-life bit is rather touching.  Cookie has opened my eyes to the potential beauty of this Cardinal drama.   It has definitely pulled on my heart-strings!  But perhaps another scenario could be at play here:  Perhaps his beloved mate did not perish. Perhaps its simply a case of unrequited love because the smart object of Harold’s affection realizes from her perch from afar that Harold isn’t mate-for-life material.  Lovey-dovey, Cardinal smooches and songs aside, I’m with the smart female.  I’m betting she spied him for a day from a distance and upon watching him head-butt the window for the better part of a day said:  That’s one seriously disturbed dude.  I think I’ll move on to another party in town.

In the meantime, Cookie has generously provided a few more suggestions, all of which I will try because If indeed Harold’s soul-mate perished at the claws of a hawk or due to our unusually cold winter, then I’m afraid drastic measures will be called for, although I’ll admit I have no idea what those might be.  Truthfully, I’m not ready to go to jail for murder in the first degree of a Northern Red Cardinal (apparently it’s against the law to shoot them…damn).  Still,  I shudder to think about the possibility of hundreds of Cardinals:  so Cookie, I may need you to help with my temporary insanity case!

And why did Alfred Hitchcock just pop into my mind?  Yikes!

Time for a date with the yoga mat and some deep breathing!