...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

i will be forced to tweet this post because, well, tweeting about it will seem really obvious when you read it

The boys and I were enjoying a pleasant dinner earlier this evening when, in between the din of gulped drinks, daily recaps, and forks clattering against plates as the boys shoveled food down their gullets, I kept hearing a squeaking sound.

"Please stop rubbing your tennis shoes together!" I begged my oldest.

"I'm not!" he declared.


I immediately shot a look to my youngest.


"It's not me!" he insisted.


"What in the? What is that noise?!"
I asked. By now it was louder, more insistent, and coming directly from the other side of the door that leads one from our garage into our house.


"There's a bird in the garage!!!" the boys cheered in unison.


"Oh, HELL NO!" I cried.

If there's one thing I hate in life more than anything, it's social injustice. Additionally, I'm not a huge fan of birds (don't EVEN get me started on birds that are unjust socially), so realizing I had a bird sitting right outside my door, chirping not because it was in distress but because it was talking itself through an elaborate plan to turn the doorknob with it's downy wings and come inside in time to watch Wipeout put a gigantic damper on my evening.

You might say it even ruffled my feathers.

(rim shot!)

I implored the boys, who, unlike the bird, were eager to return to the wild after finishing dinner, not to exit the house through the garage. The last thing I needed was a giant crow or perhaps irritated bald eagle soaring through my home, wreaking havoc on the carefully crafted and woefully unintentional country-like decor that is my living room. Remember when I said the thing was squeaking? Well, by now, the bird was mad and feeling wronged by all its former high school classmates for the years of teasing and snickering they subjected him to. It was like the demon chick in Paranormal Activity (who, for accuracy's sake, was NOT an actual chick nor fowl of any kind).


I knew without even going outside to investigate that this bird was evil. Also, it was clearly rude, what calling me cheap and such. It started thumping its beak against the door. A few minutes later, it was slipping photographs of me in smashed picture frames under it. I knew I had to get it out and get to my garage door opener to seal off the hell hole before I woke up in the middle of the night to find it standing beside my bed, rocking back and forth and preparing to peck my eyeballs out.


The trouble with this scenario, of course, is my husband, the man I'd naturally turn to when terror strikes our home, is out of town (p.s. - stay away, potential attackers!)(at least until Thursday!), and this forced me to panic and then try to come up with a way to solve the problem. If you know me at all, you know I've caved under lesser pressure involving both the carbon monoxide detector going off in the middle of the night and neighbor kids clogging the toilet (though not at the same time, but if that should ever happen, well, then, just feed me to the Bigfoot I'm so very terrified of because I'm as good as a goner anyway). So I did what any sad, unfortunate grown woman would do.

I called my mommy.

She doesn't like it when I call her that, though, so I just refer to her as Mom. Her first suggestion? Go see if the neighbor guy would retrieve it. Nice. And make my neighbors think I'm a wimp? Unacceptable (though very true)! Her second? Trap it under a laundry basket and scoot it out of the garage.

"Let me see if I got this. You want me to toss a plastic basket over a pterodactyl and slide it out of the garage?" I repeated.

"Something like that," she said.

And I'm the crazy one!

Not as crazy as the bird was becoming, though. With its voice growing louder and my will to live ebbing, I figured it was time to go out and investigate my foe (or potentially my fowl). Care to see what I was up against? Brace yourselves!

Picture not to scale. Mostly because I took it with my telephoto lens behind a barrier constructed from a large box and the driver's side door or my trusty Dodge Grand Caravan. I respectfully await your call, National Geographic magazine.

Two words. First word? Bad. Second word? Ass! Look at that mad face! Look at that scowl! Fall victim to those beady black eyes! This? This right here makes that praying mantis freak show from last fall look like a delicious cake walk in comparison!

What's that? That's a baby robin, you say? A tiny, defenseless baby robin? Rockin' little robin go tweet, tweet, tweet, you say?


Here's a sampling of how I attempted to remove this beast from my garage after two hours of listening to it squawk:



Telepathically signaling my neighbors to come see what I was doing by walking up and down my driveway like mad.

Taking to Facebook and begging for help.

Facebook had the (loving) nerve to laugh at me before suggesting I pick up the bird and place it back in nature because, get this, the bird was too young to know how to fly! Color me crazy, but if the bird was smart enough to stroll in, then this bird should have been smart enough to stroll back out! I was nauseated thinking about having to touch this animal.

Finally, my Mom called to see if the wild kingdom was back in its rightful place. I laughed nervously (to mask my tears) and told her I was still working up the nerve to touch the bird.

"Oh, for God sake. I'll be right over," she said, falling right into my trap, which, you know, if I was the trap setting type, this would have put things at Me - 2, Birds and/or Moms - 0.

A few minutes later, she pulled up to my house, emerged from her car wearing a pair of gardening gloves, and eased into the garage talking like the Bird Whisperer. "It's OK, little birdy. Mama's gonna take care of you. Come here, little sweetie." I may have had a flashback to my teenage years and wanted to ask if she thought if she'd spoken to me like that when I was young and impressionable, did she think maybe I'd not have gone through years of disordered eating (here's a hint - I didn't exactly eat like a bird), but I didn't want to crush her groove. I did get the nervous laughs, though, because I thought had it been an owl trapped in my garage, I'd have spent a large chunk of my night walking around singing "Who you gonna call?" because, well, if it's not obvious, you won't get the pun.

(OK. Owls. Who. Ohhhh...)

Two seconds later, she had, well, a bird in the hand, and I stayed a safe 20 paces ahead of her as we walked it to a tree in my backyard. That way she couldn't see me cry (kidding!) as she cooed and air kissed the bird, telling it how she could feel its tiny heart beating a mile a minute in its tiny little chest. After two hours, this potentially tragic crisis had been successfully averted, thanks to my Mom, who is now known in some circles as the best substitute husband a girl could ever want, and, lucky you, the end of my story neared!

As soon as she left, I did comfort myself with a fudge-dipped Oreo. What? It'd had been a truly stressful night and I may have been having flashbacks, mostly of that time I got caught in the chained entryway at our zoo's aviary display and not necessarily my teenage years, which could be a metaphor for the other, but I digress.

(btw, thanks again, TwoBusy!)

Speaking of food, remember when I told you the boys and I were enjoying dinner when we first heard this interloper? Want to know what was on the menu?

Scrambled eggs!

Yeah. You honestly think now that bird wasn't trying to send me a message?



Blogger Sailor said...

Cracking up, too funny. We get birds in the garage fairly often (Close the *&^*% door, kids, how hard is it to push the button??) and they *never* seem to manage to fly out the huge openings they manage to fly IN.

What's up with that, anyway? I thought the birds were all "we can navigate across the world by the magnetic field (Read: The Force), we're so cool".

And they can't find their way out a garage door? An open garage door? Two of them open?

Sheesh. No wonder I call 'em bird-brains.

Tuesday, July 06, 2010 11:25:00 PM  
Blogger Bijoux said...

That is a seriously ugly mug on that bird!

We have the same problem as Sailor with birds not leaving the opened garage. They attempt to nest in all the crap Husband has stored on shelves.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 7:25:00 AM  
Blogger Zip n Tizzy said...

It only happened once when Z was a baby, but when a bird flew into our house, I had to get the neighbor.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 7:45:00 AM  
Blogger Craig said...

That little birdie looks seriously PISSED! So, you know, maybe you were right to be a little cautious. . .

I recently had an episode wherein Moth-Ra somehow got inside my car. And moths? Even smaller brains than birds. Stupid thing kept dive-bombing me while I was tryin' to drive down the freeway, even tho I opened the window and did everything except grab him and throw him out of it. Which, it must be said, is not really the OSHA-approved way to drive down the freeway. . .

And I suppose you probably don't want to hear about the time, when I was in college, that a bat flew down the chimney into our house. Didn't think so. . . (Altho - hint! - tennis rackets! Virtually transparent to the whole bat-radar thing. . .)

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 8:32:00 AM  
Anonymous Cat said...

I have to agree that the bird looks angry and terrifying. Look at those long spindly legs! There's no need for long spindly legs like that! They don't walk! They FLY! What do they have those legs for? It's like a spider! GAH!

I am glad you made it safely through this trauma!

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 8:38:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thank goodness you had fudge covered oreos to help you recover!

Why is it all the scary crap has to happen when we're on our own? Thank goodness your mom rescued you!

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 8:52:00 AM  
Blogger WILLIAM said...

The bird looks ticked off.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 9:11:00 AM  
Blogger Cheryl said...

Honey, they don't learn to smile until they're older and flying all around you pecking at your eyes. Really.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 9:14:00 AM  
Blogger Kevin McKeever said...

But did he flip himself at you?

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 9:53:00 AM  
Blogger the weirdgirl said...

Don't feel bad. Keen's aunt is so terrified of birds she won't even eat chicken or turkey. It makes for an interesting Thanksgiving. If a bird ever got in her garage she'd probably start her life as a recluse. You were able to ACT! That makes you a contender.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 12:32:00 PM  
Blogger Pat said...

Nice to hear that Mom still has it! Did she wear her WOnder Woman cape and everything?

I GUESS this could be terrifying if you are afraid of birds? Me? I just find this downright FUNNY!

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 12:59:00 PM  
Blogger The Lady's Lounge said...

Like I was right there watching it all happen. Brilliant.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 2:36:00 PM  
Blogger Anna Whiston-Donaldson said...

Oh my goodness! This cracked me up!

The bird looks really mean.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 2:52:00 PM  
Blogger TwoBusy said...

You are most welcome.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 3:09:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt Becky said...

That bird was freaking adorable and I nearly cried thinking you were going to HURT it. MEANIE.

*blows raspberries*

Wednesday, July 07, 2010 5:53:00 PM  
Blogger Homemaker Man said...

Birds are scary. When you look them in the eye. there is nothing going on in there. They could be thinking anything. Probably about going for your eyes.

Thursday, July 08, 2010 9:58:00 AM  
Blogger Bex said...

i would totally call my mommy.

Thursday, July 08, 2010 4:34:00 PM  
Blogger Bex said...

PS. My mom would tell me lasso it, break its neck, pluck its feathers and throw it on the grill. She hates waste.

Thursday, July 08, 2010 4:35:00 PM  
Blogger Jericho said...

Hilarious, with a touch of Hitchcock... thanks for the good read!

Thursday, July 08, 2010 6:06:00 PM  
Blogger justmakingourway said...

One of the guestrooms in the hotel where I work has a chimney that no matter HOW many times we block up the damn pigeons manage to get into. And then they get into the room. And fly around and poop everywhere. And I call Maintenance and make them get it out. Because no way in HELL I am going near that freakiness.

PS - I was also totally going to mention Bigfoot as your ultimate terror - but then you did. So...good on you and all.

Thursday, July 08, 2010 8:31:00 PM  
Blogger Maureen@IslandRoar said...

Karma, right? Freaking hysterical! Glad your mommy was there to help. My kids call me that too. Still.

Friday, July 09, 2010 12:12:00 AM  
Anonymous Kelley @ magnetoboldtoo said...

It is the little ones you have to worry about. They are cunning.

Friday, July 09, 2010 8:37:00 PM  
Blogger anymommy said...

Yeah, this was clearly a mommy situation. I wouldn't have touched the damn bird either, no matter how cute and fluffy.

Friday, July 09, 2010 11:42:00 PM  
Blogger lime said...

man you would have been a hoot and a half when we had a squirrel come down the chimney and then later when a bat flew down it into a lit fire. that would have been all sorts of free entertainment. good times, good times.

Sunday, July 11, 2010 9:51:00 PM  
Blogger Stone Fox said...

clearly, that bird is rabid. you only have to look at it's one beady, frowny eye to see that it is germ infested, disease ridden, and just LOOKING for someone to peck.

kudos to you for stopping at only one fudgy oreo. i would have required at least a whole row. birds give me the vapors.

Sunday, July 11, 2010 11:02:00 PM  
Blogger Maggie May said...

i love that book the Thorn Birds and the movie too...


Tuesday, July 13, 2010 4:02:00 PM  
Anonymous Stacia said...

And now I'm adding chocolate-covered Oreos to the grocery list. Drool.

(Found you through Just Making Our Way. Haven't laughed this much in a long time!)

Tuesday, July 13, 2010 5:46:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Sailor - That bird spent hours in my garage facing the gigantic open garage door he or she entered by and never figured it out. This just makes me glad we're not descended from birds!

Cocotte - We used to get starlings trying to nest in our garage door opener machinery. You'd think I'd have learned to keep the door shut all the time by now!

Zip n Tizzy - If that bird had gotten into my house, I'm sure I'd have had to put the house up for sale and move out immediately!

Craig - I was once driving home from my mom's on a late summer night. I'd left my car windows down while I was visiting, and then rolled them up while driving home. A few minutes into the journey, I heard a super loud buzzing noise, then something hit me in the head. I screamed and nearly went off the road. I repeated that when I realized a locust was in my car. I hate those things!

Cat - If that bird had been some kind of genetic mishap between a bird and spider, well, I'd have to curse science and denounce it forever!

Meg - If I could only get my mom to move in here on all the nights my husband is out of town, I'd probably sleep far, far better. I'd also probably sleep far, far better if I didn't eat fudge dipped Oreos just before bed!

William - That bird looks like it could kill you first and then ask questions.

Cheryl - I read the first part of your comment and smiled. Then you tacked on that eye-pecking ending and I teared up in fright again!

Always Home and Uncool - You are awesome, and I am KICKING MYSELF that I didn't think of that witty word play!

the weirdgirl - Thank goodness I only have my fear of Bigfoot to cripple me emotionally!

Pat - No cape, but that woman totally saved the day. Totally my heroine!

The Lady's Lounge - Thank you, dear!

Anna See - I'm going to admit I'm still a wee bit ashamed by my weak display, but, yeah, that bird looked fierce! I wasn't taking any chances!

TwoBusy - You know, I think I'm going to spend the rest of my life telling you thank you for a variety of reasons.

Aunt Becky - I was afraid I'd hurt it, too, but purely by accident!

Homemaker Man - I'm traumatized from a childhood run-in with a feral rooster, so that bird out there was definitely looking for some kind of justice.

Bex - Dear heaven, I'm so happy to see you back around here!

Jericho - Speaking of long time, no see...

justmakingourway - Hell. No. I would NEVER walk by that room ever again! I once returned to college after summer break to find a bat in my room. Sure, it was a dead bat, but if the dorms hadn't been full, I'd have demanded a new room!

Maureen - Here's hoping our kids never get too old to need us...um, I'm definitely leading mine by example!

Kelley - Those little ones are scrappy and definitely have something to prove.

anymommy - All I could think of was the possible diseases that little ball of evil looking fluff was harboring!

lime - A couple weeks ago, I was up late and - shocking! - alone when I heard a rumbling around inside our chimney. I eyeballed that thing for the next hour, but only after clearing a path to the garage door to get the hell out of the house should a raccoon or squirrel come dive bombing me!

Stone Fox - The only thing that kept me from devouring all the Oreos was (a) mom's guilt flashbacks and (b) my possible need to stay clear-minded should I have to escape my house. Those things are so rich that one gives me the shakes!

Maggie May - I have a dog-eared copy of The Thorn Birds that I've had since stealing it from my sixth grade English teacher's classroom. Whattaya think about that, Cardinal Ralph? ;)

Stacia - I'm so pleased you stopped by, and thank you for your kind words. Hope to see you around again!

Tuesday, July 13, 2010 10:32:00 PM  
Blogger Madame Queen said...

That is one bad-ass looking bird. I'm not scared of birds but I would have been scared of that one! Sheesh. What'd you do to piss him off?

Friday, July 16, 2010 2:15:00 PM  

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