Tap, tap, tap. My secret valentine will not be dissuaded and keeps tapping on the bay window. Earlier this morning, at sunrise, I heard him whistling at me. If I was back in high school, I might suspect my old boyfriend, who would sometimes knock on my bedroom window to get my attention.

Tap, tap, tap. I investigate. Sure enough, it’s that handsome devil with a black face mask, impressive crest, and bright red feathers—the male cardinal. Interestingly, they get that crimson color because of their diet (berries, wild grapes, apples, flower seeds), which are rich in carotenoids. Female cardinals don’t get bright red because the genes responsible for converting carotenoids into red plumage are less active in them.

Tap, tap, tap. This showoff knows he’s dashing and flashes his wings. He even performs a few dance moves. Birds have always fascinated me, and he doesn’t have to try so hard to win me over.

Male cardinals are well-known for their romantic behavior. They stay faithful for life, and since they don’t migrate, they stick around. The males sing to the females, and during courtship, he places treats in his lover’s mouth, beak to beak, to prove his affection. He’ll help her build the nest around the end of March.

Sure, male cardinals have some less-than-desirable traits, such as covering themselves with ants to get rid of feather parasites like lice, but no one’s perfect.

I study his eye movements and realize he isn’t showing off for me. His gaze is on the red-capped snow figurines displayed on the shelf next to the bay window. And he’s being territorial, not romantic. I feel a bit crushed.

I take heart by thinking back to two other feathered friends who bonded with me. One was a runner duck by the name of Happy Feet, who we believed was a drake. He was the only duck who hatched out of a dozen eggs, and he bonded with humans. When my husband and I sat on the back deck, Happy Feet managed to climb up three steps, hoping to talk my husband out of a few Doritos. He adored my yellow Croc shoes and liked to peck at them. In August, he began rubbing up against my legs. He did this even when I wasn’t wearing the bright shoes. Days later, much to our surprise, Happy Feet laid an egg. 

Gertie, the gosling Canadian, was the other feathered friend I had a relationship with. Since she was orphaned and geese are very social creatures, she wasn’t happy unless she was with someone. To keep her quiet and content, she rode around in a pouch hanging from my neck for the first week. After that, she followed my husband and me around and even flew alongside the ski boat to be with us.

These aren’t ideal love affairs, but I’m not about to dissuade my cardinal Valentine from tapping on my window. And in the morning, when I hear my friend’s full-throated cheer, cheer, cheer song, I feel like Cupid’s arrow has touched my heart. Romance is alive and well.