Fair flying weather for the feathered flock.

I cleaned my windows three days ago, and there have been no avian fatalities.  It’s a miracle!

The thing about the windows is that they sort of act like mirrors.  When they are clean, they reflect the surrounding trees and sky.  The birds can’t see them.  So, the moment when the windows have first been cleaned is the moment of maximum danger.   It almost makes me not want to clean the windows.

Almost.

But part of what makes Casa Lagarto such a great house is the view.  And you can’t see the view if you can’t see out the windows.  (Although to be fair, I didn’t realize how dirty they were until I cleaned them.  However. . .)

I cleaned them on Friday.  It’s not a bad job.  As long as the weather is reasonably warm, and you don’t mind getting soaked.  I’ve got a long extension pole and a squeegee and a divided bucket.  A little dish soap, a little elbow grease—actually, shoulder muscles are more relevant than elbows—and it gets done.  The hardest part are the ones on the second story because that’s really the limit of the extension pole.  The whole operation is shaky at that point.  But, I persevered, and the outside of all my windows are now sparkling clean—with, it must be confessed, assorted streaks.

Could it be the streaks that have protected the birds?

No.  There aren’t that many streaks.  No more than on previous occasions when we did have some serious collisions.  Twice, birds have knocked themselves out.  One—an ibis—sat on the grass afterwards for so long that I even called the bird rescue team.  I was given specific instructions on how to safely pick up the bird to move it somewhere safe from predators pending collection by the rehabilitators.  When we went to do it, however, the bird pulled itself together and flew away.

It was a traumatic experience for everyone concerned—except, maybe, the bird rescue people who didn’t actually have to do anything.  I suppose, though, that was a miracle, too.  Just like the one that is keeping them out of harm’s way now.

And, every day, the windows get less clean and less dangerous.

Fingers and feathers crossed.