Bathing Robin

Oh, I wish I had a video camera. Quite often I prefer word descriptions of something over pictures, but this is one time where words cannot do it justice. By the end of the longest bird bath I've ever seen I was quivering, trying to hold in my laughter so I wouldn't scare off the robin.

This poor baby's mother apparently never taught him how to bathe. He flew up to the bird bath, paced around the edge a bit in preparation, then plopped down in the middle of the bird bath and sat. Just sat like a little statue. For a good 15 or 20 seconds.

Then, realizing something hadn't gone quite right, he got back on the edge and paced again, then plunked himself back in the middle of it again and sat. Just sat. For a good 15 or 20 seconds.

Then, a little perturbed, he got back on the edge and paced again, then plopped in the middle and sat. Just sat. For a good 15 or 20 seconds.

Back to the edge again; more pacing; splash down in the middle of the bird bath, but the fourth time was the charm! He thought to slosh his wings around -- it gave the feathers on the top of his head a cute crew-cut look.

I thought that might be it, but the kid had stamina. He got back on the edge, paced a little, plunked back down in the middle and sat. Just sat. Whoops. Didn't quite have cause and effect together yet.

Back to the edge; pace; plop; splash! Now he's got it. And away he flew.

Just as I quit laughing and was about to write about it while the six rounds were fresh in my mind, he came back. Evidently once he got the hang of it, he wanted one more go-round.