I know I said in my last post that the next one would be about Stella, but I had a very interesting morning and thought I might share what happened. It involves chasing a bird around my house. Here's how it all went down.
I went outside to put a letter in the mailbox. I left the door open so Scout could watch me (she likes to know where I'm going). I told her to stay at the door which she's very good about doing. As I got to the mailbox, I heard her come running out. So, I looked over just in time to see her scare a little bird out of a bush and then to see that little bird make a beeline for the open door. "Oh crap," I thought. "That bird did NOT just fly into my house!" (As a little bit of background, I do not like birds). I headed back to the house and told Scout to go back inside, which she did. Fortunately, she hadn't seen where the bird went and was oblivious to the fact that her desired prey was now trapped inside the house. I cautiously went inside the house, looking up at all the ceilings and light fixtures as I made my way to each room. I shut all the closet doors and then the bedroom and bathroom doors as I made my way through the house looking for the bird. I wasn't entirely sure it had actually gone in the house, so after several minutes I began to relax thinking it didn't make it in. I went in to change the baby's diaper and in the middle of the diaper change, I heard a small ruckus involving Scout out in the kitchen. I finished the diaper change and headed out to see what was going on. Scout was by the big window in the kitchen jumping up and down and looking outside. She was clearly excited about something. I got close to the sliding glass door that goes into the backyard and saw lots of feathers on the ground. Obviously the bird was inside. I figured that the bird must have tried to go out the sliding glass door and Scout saw it. She tried to catch it which sent the bird to the other window. I knew it couldn't have gotten out, but Scout didn't. She thought it had escaped and was anxious to get outside to look for it. I let her out and began searching for the bird.
Meanwhile, I sent a text to Mr. Frisby to let him know what was going on. I soon spotted the bird hiding out between some shopping bags that are between the wall and the kitchen cart in our kitchen. I asked Mr. Frisby what he thought I should do. He said I should try to catch it (yeah, right!). Then he suggested I just open the sliding glass door and shoo it out. Fortunately, the baby was happy playing in her room with all of this going on. I brought Scout inside and shut her in our bedroom because I knew things would not end well for the bird if she was around. I then approached the little bird and with a pole (because I was not about to get close enough for it to peck my eyes out) I started poking the bags to get the bird to move. It hopped down to the floor and starting hopping around. I started prodding it a little with the pole, trying to move it toward the door. Stupid bird wasn't having any of it. It kept hopping in the opposite direction. Then it started to make use of its wings - big problem. It flew over close to the front door. So, I opened the front door and again tried to prod it over. No dice. Stupid bird then headed down the dark hallway (good thing I had shut all the doors). I got a bag and tried to coax the bird into it. Didn't work. That's when the bird really remembered it could fly and it flew right up to perch on our Christmas Tree. Of course, at that point, I decided I needed some photographic documentation of this little guy.
Yep. There he is. Looking quite festive, don't you think? I was sort of at a loss for what to do at that point. Then the bird made it easy for me. He flew to the back of the tree and went into hiding somewhere inside. I couldn't find him. I looked and looked and looked, but that little fella was hidden well. After a little while, I gave up. I had things to do. I informed Mr. Frisby that he would need to take care of the situation when he got home. I let Scout out and told her there was a bird she needed to find. She didn't really get it. She could tell something was up, though, and stayed pretty alert. A little while later, I was in the kitchen and Scout was laying on the couch. All of a sudden, she jumped down and ran over to the tree. The bird must have moved. It was pretty awesome to watch. Scout was army crawling around under the tree, by the tree stand, around the gifts. She was on the hunt! Fortunately, the baby had fallen asleep at this point, so I didn't have to worry about her for the moment.
Right about that time, the doorbell rang. Of course, Scout ran over to see who it was, forgetting about the little bird. I answered the door to a salesman from a company that does home repairs. He was quite chatty and actually had some relevant information. While Scout and I were occupied at the door, I guess the bird decided it was an ideal time to make a run for it. Problem is there was nowhere for it to run. I heard the little bells on the tree garlands ring and I knew the bird was on the move. Seconds later, I heard a thud and I knew it had flown into the sliding glass door. At this point, Scout was getting bored with the salesman, but I didn't want to unleash her on the bird. I glanced back at the back door and saw the little bird lying on the ground with its feet sticking up in the air. It didn't seem to be moving. I kept a hold of Scout and waited for the salesman to finish. Finally he left. I took Scout back to our bedroom, put her inside and shut the door. I cautiously approached the bird and I could see its chest still moving. I figured maybe it was just stunned, so I grabbed a bag, prodded the bird inside with the pole, went out onto the back patio and slid the bird out of the bag. It just laid on the concrete with its little feet twitching. I let Scout out of our room and called Mr. Frisby. He didn't answer. So, Scout and I just watched the bird twitching away outside. I couldn't tell if it was coming to or dying. Scout didn't care. She just wanted at that bird and was really upset that I wouldn't let her outside.
A few minutes later, Mr. Frisby called back and I explained to him what had happened. I told him I didn't know if the bird was coming to or dying. He said I should give it a few minutes and see how it was doing. "It's been a few minutes," I said. "It's probably been 20 or 30 minutes." He said the bird probably broke its neck when it hit the door and it wasn't going to survive. He then suggested I put it out of its misery. "You're joking," I thought. But, I knew he wasn't. And I knew he was right. So, I asked what I should do. He said, "here's what you need to do - you're not going to like it." I said, "I'm not smashing it." All the while, I have ideas going through my head of how to kill a bird and I'm trying to figure out which method I would actually be able to carry out. He said, "just put it in a bag and then drop one of the heavy logs on it." (We're taking out a tree in our backyard and have a number of logs suitable for killing a little bird). I thought about this suggestion. My stomach was doing some impressive flips at this point. But, I couldn't think of anything better. So, I said, "okay. I'll see what I can do." I then hung up with Mr. Frisby and headed outside with a bag. At this point, the bird was clearly not going to recover, so I knew that it really would be better to kill it and end its suffering. But, I was not excited about what was ahead. I pushed the bird into the bag with the pole and flattened the bag as much as I could. I went over to the pile of logs and got the smallest one I could find. I went back over to the bag, held the log over it, shut my eyes, and dropped the log. I looked at the bag. It was still moving. "Oh crap," I thought. "I have to do it again!" Stupid curved log! It was curved enough that the middle part didn't hit the ground when I dropped it and, therefore, didn't smash the bird. I examined the log and found a knot that stuck out more. At this point I just wanted the whole thing to be over, so I quickly held the log over the bag with the knot directly over where the bird was and dropped it. When I picked the log back up, I knew it was over. I quickly put the log back, grabbed the bag, chucked it in the garbage and went back inside. And, as I headed in, I thought, "I could never have been a pioneer! There's a reason I was born in this day and age."
