Being pithy is not one of my talents, but I’ll try to finish my story quickly.
 
When I came back to tape the garbage bag around the bat infested chimney, Tidus wasn’t looking at the chimney anymore.  Nor was scratching coming from it.  He was staring upstairs.  Timidly approach stairs hoping not to scare it into my kids’ rooms if it was hanging out in the hallway.  Suddenly notice blac thing collapsed on step.  Not bat.  Bird.  Tragically beautiful bird.  Send Tidus outside so as not to allow him to ‘play’ with the poor thing.  Tried to pick the bird up.  Still having imaginary episodes with bats and large painful needles.  VERY JUMPY.  Bird poops on me and flies around daughter’s room banging head on the ceiling that it doesn’t understand.  Perches precariously in ways birds aren’t allowed to perch.  Since I’m still jumpy (didn’t know I was that high strung, but it was late and I was tired.) every time he flies up at me I have to convince myself to try again.   Daughter sleeps through whole episode.  He falls behind a box (like a 1″ space) I ‘cleverly’ toss the towel over the box, hold one edge up to the wall and try the ‘pull out box drop towel’ combo.  It lands on his tail.  He squeaks.  Despite the fact that I’m still shaking and sweating from my very small exertions (Apparently even though I felt SOOO much better, I was not totally okay yet) I feel bad for the thing.  Every time he gets a perch I’ve scared him away.  He can’t fly up like he normally can.  Now I’ve got him trapped.  He must think the world is coming to the end.  On top of that, he’s spent at least a few terror filled minutes/hours stuck in a chimney… my imagniation says he was chased there by an owl.  I just want the poor thing outside and safe.  BUT when I flip another end of towel to get him completely covered, he makes a break for it and after bashing his skull in several MORE times flies down our stairway. 
 
I couldn’t find him. 

By this time I’m emotionally wrapped up in his well-being.  I look everywhere.  Nothing.  No bird.  (I had already hung up on my “there’s a potentially rabid animal in my chimney support line”… she will call in the morning to find out what happened.)

 
I look some more.  It’s late.  I’m exhausted.  I’m drawing parallels between the bird’s fright and entrapment and the way I felt at the beginning of the week.  More and more I become attached to this poor little black bird that I can’t find. 
 
Husband calls to let me know he’s on his way home.  I explain, laughing with the absurdity of losing a bird in the house, what’s going on and how sad I am for the poor little thing.  He walks in the door and says ever so tenderly and with such caring (I promised I’d tell you how sensitive he was which was his one request whne I told him I was going to blog.) … “Let Tidus in.  He’ll find it.”
 
I’m aghast. 
 
He loves me.  Thus he searches for awhile.  Then repeats his assesment.  We can’t find it.  Go to bed.  Let Tidus in.  It will all be over by morning.
 
It’s late.  I cave.  He concedes to putting up a baby gate in the hallway to prevent our children from seeing it should they beat us to being awake in the morning.  He does not, however, get up in the morning to come check it all out.  I do.  It’s dead.  Fortunately Tidus only wants to play with things he doesn’t try to eat them or maul them so no carnage.  It looks like its still flying.  UGH.  How depressing.  Such a beautiful animal.  So scared of the one that was trying to rescue it to no avail.
 
That’s the end of the story.  The good news is, I think we have baby robins in our nest.  Hopefully they won’t find their way to the chimney.
 
 
 
 
 
Advertisements