Sunday, June 06, 2010

A bird in the hand

Not for the first time, we had an avian visitor in the Crumbling Villa. The normal sequence of events is that I notice chirping coming from upstairs, I investigate, and discover a sparrow, finch or other Little Brown Job fluttering around the upstairs landing, perching on bookshelves and air conditioners, and occasionally smashing its poor diminutive bird brain on the large but unopenable window.

What’s the best way to remove a wild bird from the house? Very occasionally, opening the French window of the main bedroom, closing off all other doorways and curtains, and brandishing a broom at the creature is sufficient to encourage its escape. But sometimes this isn’t enough, and I’ve in the past resorted to chasing the bird until it’s too exhausted to fly. Then it’s easy to pick up off the bookshelf and carry outside. A bit stressful, of course, so this is not an ideal solution from the bird’s point of view.

How do birds get in, anyway? I once watched as a dove swooped in through the open front door, circumnavigated the sitting room and then swooped out again. But I theorise that in general, LBJs get into the house through the extractor fans. They perch outside, enjoying the wafts of cool air provided by the Crumbling Villa’s rickety, old and incontinent air conditioning. Then one enterprising soul climbs through and can’t find its way out again.

Not entirely true; I recently found evidence of LBJ in the bathroom. If guano on the floor, walls and mirror, and little claw marks in the soap and in the dust on the extractor fan are to be believed, the culprit made good its escape.

Our most recent visitor spent the evening in the kitchen. Of course, it utterly refused to fly into the dark void beyond the window we opened. Then I had the brilliant idea of shutting off the lights and using a torch. Sparrows can’t fly in the dark. One crash-landing on to Beloved Wife later, and I was able to scoop up the sparrow by hand and deposit it outside on the kitchen window sill.



The Yellow Box Of Doom said...

Dear Mr Goat

I must first start by appologising as it has been some time since I last availed myself of your entertainment services. However a quick read through and I'm glad to confirm that standards appear to have been maintained. Well done that goat, keep up the good work.

Also laughed so much I may have slightly soiled the wives underwear at the image of a sparrow struggling to fly in the sark while holding a torch only to crag into beloved's head.

Keep up the good work

Sniggering of Sydney

Grumpy Goat said...

"...I may have slightly soiled the wives underwear..."

You spilled your coffee whilst doing the ironing, perhaps? Because the alternatives are too ghastly to contemplate.

Pass the mind bleach.


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