Signs and Messages: Red Bird at My Window

      I awoke to the persistent pecking of a rambunctious red bird. Curiously, because my home is a church, (with many windows to choose from) he found the one window closest to my bed and the only one visible to me while lying down. As I got up to check him out, he flitted back to his perch atop my lovely tulip tree. I reached for my cell to take this video and like a scripted actor, he fluttered once again in mid air, pecking at the window, performing in one take, as though happy he finally got my attention.
     There are numerous legends about birds in general and red birds in particular, the most common being they portend death. (Please God, no more deaths.) A bit more digging and I find Egyptians believed a bird in the home (as in flying in, which this bird would do if it wasn't such a pane) is the soul of someone recently passed, returning to ease your sorrow. (Right now, that could be one of several; then again, it could be Minsky.) Other legends associate such scenarios with angels... even spirit guides--something with a message from the other side.
     There are also ties to prophecy. Not death per se, but a foretelling of something major to happen. Birds fed the prophet Elijah. St. Francis's conversion involved a bird leading him out on a ledge, after which he heard voices and decided to leave his worldly father to follow his heavenly one.)
     (OK. Cue the Beyond Reason music here...I am now downstairs writing and in this very moment, the bird, who has been tapping on the same window for the past 3 mornings, flies to the opposite side of my home, to tap on the window above where I write.)
     Oddly enough, Boo (who loves this sort of thing, and makes a chattering noise when he spots a bird or a squirrel) is totally unaffected. He sees the bird. He is un-phased by the bird. (Very odd, as this much activity normally sends his curiosity full throttle.)  It's as if he knows this being. He treats it like an old glove. This is simply not registering like other things outside our windows that perk his ears up. (Scrap Beyond Reason theme, cue Twilight Zone.)
     I stop, look at the bird and ask,  "What are you saying? Who are you?" He flits back to his tree and begins to sing. I return to type and he's back to pecking.  (It's official. Bring the net. I am now playing charades with a bird...Or maybe I'm talking with a friend...If nothing else, I'm allowing myself to know Minks is ok, and I'm good with that...Truth be told, I'm not sure what this is, but he has my undivided attention and shall continue to have it until we come to some understanding as to what I am supposed to hear.)
     As a girl who plants by the almanac, I'm all about the signs...
     And as my daddy used to say, "Don't ask if you're not ready to listen."
     (OK Bird. I'm all ears.)