Sunday, 10 June 2012

Reason With a Robin


I have mentioned before that I had somehow injured my shoulder. You would think that if you were to do something that would result in so much pain, at the very least, you should remember just what you did. Not so much for me.

I have been going to see a physiotherapist for the last few weeks and I am not entirely sure that as a medical treatment, physiotherapists shouldn’t be right up there with chiropractors, Voodoo, psychic surgeons and the blood letters of the Middle Ages. However, since nothing that I had done has had any effect, I thought that I couldn’t get any worse. Quite frankly, I actually did nothing, so I’m not terribly surprised that the shoulder didn’t get better. I figured I did nothing to cause the problem so there was a better than even chance that doing nothing would fix the problem. It seems to be a logical argument, but I am assured by many people that it is far from logical.

The physiotherapist will grab my shoulder and arm and very gently rock backwards and forwards, pressing ever so lightly on the affected area. He does this of course while I have my shirt off and am lying on my side or back. The way that the table is placed, my nose is generally about three inches from his crotch. It makes me a little uncomfortable! I try to think of manly things to talk about, but with the rocking and swaying, I really just want to sleep. The last couple of times he has done acupuncture which is another of those quasi medical techniques. I know the argument, “The Chinese have been doing it for centuries.” Yeah, well, sure, but not to me.

I have these exercises that I am to do at home and they involve pulleys, rope, weights and the judicious use of a wall. I was doing the wall one which involves my arm at right angles to my body, pressed flat against the wall while I gently lean forwards and hold that position for about twenty seconds. I was about half way through the twenty seconds and I looked up to see Buster standing on the landing just looking at me. He stared for a couple of seconds, and then cocked his head a little to the right. I imagine that he thought from that angle what he was looking at would make sense. He then snorted in derision and went back up the stairs. I suspect that he is in the market for a new best friend.

I also mentioned that I have made a couple of bird houses lately. They are pretty crappy, but I was trying out a design that I saw at a craft store in Banff. They look alright, but I didn’t figure them to house a bird, so I put them low to the ground and close to where people walk. Damned if the birds didn’t decide to move in. Perhaps it is like the low cost housing programs that many cities have. I would imagine that they will more than likely be cat feeders as well as bird houses. Hey, I built a two-fer. The problem that I am having is that whenever I walk by (quite a lot) the birds take off like the devil himself is after them and the noise and rocketing bird frighten the shit out of me. Every time! I can only imagine what the mailman is saying and thinking every day. I will move them next year…probably.

I was making another bird house in the garage tonight. It has an orange sweater and a touque, don’t ask, when a robin flew into the garage. I have had birds in the garage before, and have had a hell of a time getting them out. The shuttlecock in badminton is often referred to as a “bird”, so I figured I could get rid of the birds in the past with a racquet. Long story short, I never did hit the bird but it managed to leave double its weight in shit all over the garage. Tonight I planned to reason with the robin, I looked him in the eye and said “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” To my surprise and delight it flew off the way it came and no shit.

Pretty good ending.

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