The True Tale of the Bird in the House

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Today is to confess on the witness stand.

On Monday Eric Wrisley shared the sad tale of Squirrel Nutkin and I alluded to a story involving my Mom and a fireplace and a sparrow. She just wanted to make sure the record was set straight for your benefit. If you too have an exciting tale of the wilderness encroaching upon your humble home, please feel free to share.

The True Tale of the Bird in the House

It was a cold, windy, snowy night.  Perfect for a nice roaring fire, a big cup of hot tea and a good book.  My husband was out of town so immediately after coming home from the office it was flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers for me.
 
I'd just finished a few chapters and couple of cups of tea when I heard a whoosh in the hearth.  A bird.  Not too small.  Black, with a yellow beak.
 
We both thought "what do I do now"?
 
We'd had a bird appear in the basement just a few nights before this.  What was the story with this bird invasion?  But the first bird taught me that it wasn't easy getting them out of a window at night since they only seem to gravitate to the light.  The basement bird flew around for hours before it finally figured his way out, with help from a lot of arm waving and shrieking from the two of us.  But this time it was different.  I was alone, he was in the living room and I shouldn't have had so much tea.
 
The fire screen didn't quite fit the hearth.  There was maybe enough space for this guy to squeeze through, which is exactly what I knew he was thinking so I didn't dare leave the room and give him his opportunity.
 
I got up close and we looked at each other eyeball to beady eyeball.  He was flitting around in there, unsuccessfully trying not to scorch his feet.  I apologized to him for not letting him out, explaining about the new carpeting and drapes we'd just had installed.  I really felt bad about this but releasing him was out of the question.  After an eternity of my tearfully watching his fight for survival he finally fainted - or decided to play dead - right in the corner closest to me.  I ran to get a paper grocery bag.  Ever so carefully I opened the fire screen just a tiny bit.  My plan was to try to shovel him into the bag but fortunately he revived himself, got the idea and hopped in.  I ran to the front door and placed, no, actually tossed the bag in the snow.  I looked out the window and you know what, boys and girls?  I watched him fly away!
 
And so the next morning I called the furnace people to come out and cap the chimney with a screen so that this would never happen again.  I could tell you more bedtime stories, but my run-ins with the raccoons and the skunks would give you nightmares.  Sleep tight.