I had an exciting weekend; in fact, the most exciting weekend I’ve had all year.
Yes, Internet, I admit my life is limited and pathetic; get over it, I have.
It all began Saturday evening, as the sun set.
My door faces East, so all the daylight flora and fauna living in the front yard is fast asleep by twilight, and the night-time inhabitants begin their croaking and chirping chorus. The last rays of the sun reminded me that I hadn’t ventured out to the mailbox yet, and so I grabbed the key and flung open the front door. As I did, a dark shape flew at my face, up and over my head, and into my family room in the blink an eye. Scared the bejeepers out of me!
Afraid that more were scheming their own dash into my air-conditioned “cave,” and convinced my early night visitor was a bat, I slammed the door shut, and listened to the hammering of my heart. Yep, it was still beating, but rather fast.
My stint as a bat-hunter had begun, but was over in less than a minute when a small bird came darting down from the family room cathedral ceiling to land on the imitation trailing ivy that is draped from the top of the cathedral-high front windows.
A very dark, burgundy red, he was a chipper little fellow with a thing for fake plants. I have a lot of plants and flowers made of silk and other materials scattered throughout my home, even on the ledges around the kitchen, and he investigated every one. He seemed pretty content, and I began to think, around 11:00 p.m., he was planning on moving in.
Nothing I did made the slightest impression on him, that he should “move toward the light” on the porch through the open front door. I had all the lights inside turned off, all the doors closed, all the blinds closed, and a broom to try to block him from leaving the front of the house. Ha! He was not afraid of me and my witchy broom, not one bit.
We matched wits again in the morning. I was happy to see he hadn’t perished during the night; finding and removing dead carcasses is not my idea of a pleasant interlude. I was, however, frustrated that he still wasn’t interested in making a swift exit.
He flew and I ran back-and-forth in 20 minute “heats,” until he finally lost his grip on the front window foliage (and this was a bird that could hang from the popcorn ceiling, his claws must have been plenty sharp) and landed on the floor, directly in front of the open door. I feinted like I was going to make (another) grab for him, and he nonchalantly walked out the door.
I dashed to the door and quietly shut it. Whew!
I think he was roosting on the door wreath (remember, this little dude loved artificial foliage) and, when I opened the door inward, he was startled into flight. I know birds like to stay up high and that’s why it’s so hard to get them “down and out,” but this crazy bird would fly to the light fixture that hangs in the foyer, hang upside-down from the bottom of it, and gaze out the door at the world like he was a house pet!
I’ll have to get out my bird watching book and see if I can identify him. By the coloring, I’m guessing he was a “he.” In most bird species, it is the male who gets the flashy coloring and jazzy feathering.
I’m looking forward to a quiet and uneventful end to this week!