The Animals are Acting Like Animals

Yesterday, I was walking the dog in the park, along the treeline, and an old dude with a white beard approached me and said I shouldn't continue in the direction I was headed because there was a rabid skunk over there-- it was reeling and stumbling and out in the daytime and definitely ill . . . meanwhile, at school, most mornings this spring, an angry male robin who lives in the courtyard bordering my room alights on the windowsill near my desk and attacks his reflection in the window, often disrupting the learning with his incessant pecking on the window-- and apparently this is quite common, a territorial maneuver instinctually designed to fend off other male rivals-- and sometimes birds do this to side-view car mirrors and break the glass-- but even though I've explained this to my Creative Writing class, they are kind souls and think the bird is asking to come inside and they want to let him in and feed him, an idea which I have rejected soundly . . . but I did offer a student the option of sitting outside in the courtyard near the window and attending class that way, because I would love to see the bird attack this silly little sophomore.