Let me tell you about the Birds and the Bees

birds-and-the-bees

Since I have moved into the Gingerbread House I have had a series of critter adventures. Opossums, groundhogs, spiders, bees, wasps . . . but none have been more terrifying than the sparrows.

If you know me at all, you probably know I have an irrational fear of birds (I love owls though). I blame the Grackles of Austin, TX and Hitchcock.

In my just over a year in the Gingerbread House I have had no fewer than four sparrows get in my house! FOUR! In my house . . . 2 which got up the stairs into my room. MY ROOM . . . ON MY BED. I’ve seen them on my bed. I handled the two downstairs all by my lonesome; however, the two upstairs bandits required reinforcements.

The first birdie bandit required the help of my grandmother. My grandmother constantly doubts my ‘adult status’. This incident did not reassure her of my ‘adult’ness. She bravely went up the stairs broom in hand and directed me to open a window. Mama Judy clearly meant business. In less than 90 seconds said bird was swept out the window. I think she would have been completely exasperated with me if she hadn’t thought the whole incident was so hilarious.

Today’s incident actually began last night. I went upstairs to turn on the upstairs AC, turn on the bedroom fan, and start my humidifier (Why does this make me feel old?). Then out of nowhere BIRD flying around my room . . . and landing on my bed. I squealed. I turned off the ceiling fan in fear of decapitating the bird and ran downstairs to get a broom. Thanks to Mama Judy’s successful sweeping of the previous bird out the window I knew what to do. Confidently I charged up the stairs to meet my nemesis. Then the damn bird flew at me forcing me to duck and shriek in fear of my life . . . or my eyeballs. I stealthily to open a window. I swept the little bugger toward the open escape route and then lost sight of him. Obviously, the bird escaped and went on with his life.

I was wrong.

I awoke, sun shining into my lovely bedroom, dog cuddled next to me. Then I heard it . . . the flutter of wings in my calm bedroom. And, then I lost my shit as did the dog who literally shit on the floor. I ran to the broom still in a corner from the previous night’s escapades and started swinging wildly. The windows were closed! JESUS! What was I going to do?!?! Um . . . . Open, the windows. Opening the windows did not help. Then the little insurgent hid under a bunch of pillows. Time for reinforcements. My grandmother sent my uncle because the situation was clearly escalating.

Uncle Jeff arrives to save the day. He takes the broom and persuades the tiny terrorist (ok, I know the bird is not a terrorist as he has no political motives) out from under the pillow pile. Boom! Bird is airborne. I squeal and seek protection. The bird escapes downstairs, and we pursue. Chaos ensues. Then with one incredible movement Uncle Jeff sweeps the intruder out the front door. Peace is restored.

And they all lived happily ever after . . . To be continued.

 

 

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