It was a Sunday afternoon. Blake and Ellie were at my dad and step-mom's for their usual Sunday night dinner. Buh was staying late to help with The Toots. Charlie was off island for the night. It was just Toodle Bug, Buh and myself when it happened...
I was so freaked out. I started screaming, Buh was screaming, and Tessie was, well, laughing. I needed to get us help and fast. I called my dad and yelled into the phone, "You have to come help us! Come now!" Dad is not prone to over-reacting and even sounded a bit annoyed when he said, "What the hell is the matter now?" Sheesh! I guess he'll change his tune once I tell him what I am up against.
"A bird flew into my house and is flying all around!", I screamed a bit hysterically. "I can't get it outside and I am really freaked out that it might attack us or Tessie! You need to come NOW!"
As cool as a cucumber he says "Well, what kind of bird is it?". What kind of bird is it?...what difference should that make?! "It's a chickedee!", I yelled into the phone while diving for cover and shrieking like a crazy person.
It was at this point in the conversation that dad showed a little emotional investment with my predicament...he laughed.
"A chickadee?? I'm not coming over there for a chickadee! Maybe if it was a crow or a seagull or something, but for a chickadee? Just leave your door open. He'll fly out eventually." Well thanks for nothing.
I stared at the phone, just listening to the dial tone because he had hung up (while still laughing I might add), before I slammed it down and looked to my ever faithful Buh for help.
We decided that the best course of action was to, in fact, leave the door open while she climbed the beams in my house, waving a piece of a shirt to scare the bird into flying out. Nope. The bird just became frantic and was zooming from one end of the house to another as Buh waved the shirt around her head like she was at some topless beach party in hell.
Important fact: I have a cathedral ceiling in my living room that goes up for about eighteen to twenty feet. I also have a huge window in the upper part of the living room. Guess where the bird was trying to get out? You guessed it. It kept zooming into the loft on the third floor and then doing a one-eighty and zooming back to that window. Hard.
Okay, this clearly was not going to work so on to plan B. Buh sat on the couch with The Toots and bodily covered her so she was protected while I flung a coat hanger repeatedly up to the ceiling trying to get the bird to come down.
With each upward throw of the hanger I'd yell like some Viking Warrior woman, "Protect Tessie!" Then I would scale the hanger wildly into the air while Buh covered Tessie and waited to see where the hanger would land...which, nine times out of ten, was on top of Buh. She bore it like a champ.
The 'protect Tessie' plan eventually came to a halt when I hit the bird with the hanger hard enough to have it twirl like a whirligig to the floor. Uh-oh.
"You killed it!", Buh yelled at me in a very accusing tone. "I didn't mean to, I just wanted it out!" I yelled back rather defensively. I proceeded to get on the wood stove mitts and picked the poor little thing up. "It's alive!", I rejoiced. Apparently I had only stunned it with the hanger. So I placed it oh-so-gingerly on my porch and went to get it some water to try to revive it. By now the little birdie was coming to and stretched it's wings and flew away. I slammed the door shut, slumped onto the couch with Buh and Tessie and we laughed hysterically for about twenty minutes.
A little while later my dad called. I picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"
His only reply was to start singing..."Bird Bird Bird, the bird is the word. I said the bird bird bird, the bird is the word."
He was still laughing...