EDMONTON EXISTENTIAL

Strange Weather

It snowed last Sunday morning. Ann and I are adapting to the fierceness of all climate things weird, but this miniature isolated flurry was just a little beyond. After one cup of black coffee and two cigarettes on our front porch I was still vexed. Ann said, “Woody’s moved in.” The snowflakes were stucco dust and beads of Styrofoam.

Downy woodpeckers are about the size of chickadees. Males have a little punk rock thatch of red on their heads as is common with other varieties of the species. Downy woodpeckers can be identified by the stubbiness of their beaks, compact augers and battering rams. They put their noses to the grindstone, so to peck.

The brand new, unsold, two-storey infill beside us is an attractive Berlin Wall grey. The exterior finish is stucco and I can only assume the acrylic stuff was skimmed on to the thickness of icing on a cake. Woody’s exploratory drilling soon opened a perfect black circle, the diameter of a golf ball and the white, rigid layer of beady insulation beneath was easy pickings. The result was a real estate classified aviary ad: an ideal space for woodpeckers yet too small for larger, intrusive nest raiders such as magpies and blue jays.

Ann and I are not pleased with what’s gone on next door these past two years, demolition and reconstruction, noise and dust and debris. An infill project comes with hidden costs for its neighbours. There will be accidental and minor damage along the property line. We purchased three trees in an attempt to regain a modicum of our lost privacy. New patterns of light and shadow have put Ann to work reconfiguring her garden, digging in the dirt, transplanting root balls.

The builder is a retired fireman, more hobbyist than developer. He did not cut corners with materials and fixtures. His given name is Irish and his surname is French. We’ve hosted him on our front porch for happy hour beers. We’re able to talk about things other than his project. He said from the start he wanted to be a good neighbour and he has been; Ann and I have been consulted when our input was warranted. He’s repaired our garden gate and cleaned our eaves troughs. When he installed his house’s address numbers he left one digit slightly off plumb. He said he wanted to co-mingle with the spirit of the Crooked 9. I’m certain he just made a mistake. What is the human touch but slight imperfection?

Woody’s squatting posed something of a dilemma for Ann and me. We knew our builder friend would never see the nest because of the infill’s crowding of the property line and the sheer height of the hole. Only crabs can negotiate the space between our fence and the Berlin Wall because they skitter sideways. My first gleeful thought was entirely malicious, “Yes! Instant karma!” I said to Ann, “I’m cheering for the woodpeckers.”

In the nighttime I’ve never been able to be alone with my thoughts. My cranium is crowded; there’s a riot going on, a lot of incoherent debate. Eventually, and frequently reluctantly, I manage to convince myself to do the right thing even if it feels wrong. Ultimately, I squealed on Woody. The nest hole was patched over that same day. I felt like a quisling among the nestlings.

The stucco repairman was just a block away, working on filling ten other woodpecker holes in two other infills, he said. Serendipity of a sort. All that’s left to be done on the structure beside the Crooked 9 is the landscaping - which displays as golf course Photoshop green in various real estate classifieds; the reality is weeds. As those permits and certificates officially worm their way through the City of Edmonton’s bureaucracy nothing can be done in the meantime. Meanwhile, our builder friend has become something of an obsessive birdwatcher. He visits his site a couple of times a day to stare up at its walls, inspecting them through binoculars. It’s only mid-August, but I wish it would snow.            

meGeoff has been your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of wither weather and woodpeckers since 2013. My novella Of Course You Did is out now. Visit www.megeoff.com to find your preferred format and retailer.