Since quoting Mister Rogers last week and writing about neighborhoods, I thought it was time for an update on my resident cardinal.  He is the self-proclaimed king of my backyard; and like all good cardinals, he knows how to command attention.  I first introduced him to you back in May when he commanded my attention by  Shadow Boxing with his own reflection in the outside mirror of our van.  It was so distressing to watch this poor territorial fellow make his multiple swoops each day from his nesting spot in a nearby tree to the side of the van where he would furiously attack his own reflection.  We knew when he was defending his turf, because we could hear the tink-tink-tink of his beak on the glass from the far end of the yard.  We were seriously worried that he might injure himself, so we folded the mirrors inward and hoped he would think the other bird had moved on.  He persisted in his quest for safety and found the other bird in the side windows instead.  He continued his attacks.  He also discovered that we had more than one vehicle; and soon I am sure he thought a whole flock of cardinals had invaded his space and were threatening his family.  He would perch high above the ground in our neighbor’s sycamore, calling out his location and distracting any who heard him from the true location of his nest in another tree.

Periodically, he would dive toward one mirror or another and engage in his repeated and futile attempts to drive away his own reflection.

Weeks passed, and as I walked outside one day I noticed that something had changed.  Mr. Cardinal was perched on the passenger-side mirror of my car, looking at his reflection once again.  But something had changed.  He was sitting there quietly, just gazing into the mirror.  I watched him for a full fifteen minutes, and not once did he raise a beak toward the other bird.

Is it possible that even my bird-brained friend was able to learn over time that the other bird would do him no harm?  I suppose it is more likely that nesting season is over and he no longer needs to defend his young from enemies — this idea could be supported by the fact that he and Mrs. Cardinal have been going on dates to eat worms in my vegetable garden — but I like to think that Mr. Cardinal got to know his reflection well enough that he at least could tolerate the other bird and not be afraid or feel threatened.

Aren’t neighborhoods like that?  We live in our space and feel comfortable until there’s a new kid on the block.  Suddenly we become territorial and cautious — possibly even defensive.  How often do you suppose we need to look and react to someone new before we take the time to really get to know who he is?  Maybe it takes fifteen minutes of looking without judging before we can sit together and discover  that we can live together in peace.