Why I Broke One of My 'Cardinal' Rules

Guns are evil. This inviolate "death and taxes" truth sustained me--a peace-loving granny, a tree-hugging liberal--through 64 years of protected, upper-middle-class subsistence. It was the one fixed point on a vacillating compass of relative morality until, one day, a tiny bird, the merest wisp of red plumage, tore away my comforting absolute and aligned me squarely with the NRA supporters, Second Amendment defenders and pro-gun crusaders I had reviled.

Three years ago a male northern cardinal, or Cardinalis cardinalis, began hurling himself against the windows of our solar home. His assaults commenced at dawn. Each sunrise he would alight on our greenhouse roof and slide down the glass panels, pecking furiously at his scarlet reflection. He'd attack the bedroom, living room and dining-room windows before returning to the greenhouse to repeat his loop. Bang! Click, click. Scratch, scratch.

After 14 months of incessant attacks, Cardinalis held our family hostage. We tried everything to win our freedom and a little sleep. My husband and I wrapped sticky tape around tree branches and along window frames; we wove webs of fishing line across our five-foot windows, wired plaster cardinals to peripheral tree branches, propped mirrors in the gardens, placed plastic owls and stuffed toys in windows and baited a Hav-A-Heart trap with sunflower seeds. We threw stones at our tormentor and sprayed him with the garden hose, all to no avail.

After living for 36 months under the siege of Cardinalis, I cracked. My sleep patterns had altered, my ability to concentrate (already declining with age) was spiraling down to about 30-second intervals. My hands were shaky, my head ached, my vision blurred. I had morphed from a cookie-baking granny to a crazed zombie. I turned away from my bleeding-heart pals toward those who enjoy a more pragmatic turn of mind--those who honor the way of the warrior.

"I want to kill a cardinal," I announced to the middle-aged man behind the gun counter.

He glanced up from the weapon he was dismantling or cleaning or appraising and said, "It's against the law to shoot a cardinal."