I was headed upstairs to hit the treadmill.
“Mama! A bird just smacked into the window!” the Princess hollered.
I came running, putting up my hair as I went. (I have learned my lesson.) Out on the deck was a juvenile variety of something or other still breathing but twisting its neck around and stumbling like a drunk. I went outside and scooped it up and it just blinked at me. I waited a minute before I got my hopes up, as I’ve had birds crash but keep breathing for a bit before gasping their last. But he held on, so I showed him to the Princess through the window and she came on out.
He had long claws and a long, pointed beak, so I suspect he’s a seed or bug eating tree dweller. His chocolate brown eyes blinked at us and he started coming around. When he cheeped and struggled, I knew it was time to let go. He could fend for himself.
Dang if he didn’t just stand there! He stood and let us pet his little birdy head and made little sweet talk. Finally he got a clue and ran under the grill to safety. So the Princess went to go inside and I turned to shoo him to where the neighborhood cats wouldn’t reach him.
“MAMA! He followed me inside!!”
She ran back out, I ran in. That crazy bird was flying and crashing all over the living room. That’s because our three indoor-only cats had gotten a fix on the prey and were determined to exact revenge for all the aviary teasing they had gotten throughout the years from birds on the outside. No window holding them back today! So the bird is seeking refuge anywhere it can, now behind the cookbook shelves, now under a school desk cheeping and screaming for it’s life. Felines leaping, feathers flying, and me shaking and chasing and guarding and praying I can get that thing out before the cats massacre it. Because then I would have a dead bird and a passel of hysterical kidlets on my hands. And it’s not even noon yet.
Finally I caught it and hustled outside again. The Princess got inside before I let it go this time, and it still just stood there. This is when I became sure it was a juvenile, because it had no concept of being in danger despite overwhelming proof. I had to aggressively shoo and whoop before it would fly up onto the shed out of hunting territory. Bird brain.
I came back in to wash up.
“That bird was really great. We should get a canary, Mama!”