Bird

A bird flew in the house through the open sliding glass door and I spent most of the morning trying to convince three terriers not to kill it. I know nothing about nature but I do know that the bird was of the same variety of birds that the big dog killed right in the yard a year or two ago. For weeks after, its mate would perch on top of the patio overhang above the spot in the grass where the murder occurred and engage in some truly pitiful and prolonged tweeting. Call me cold-hearted, but if I'd been that mate, I'd have stayed much farther away from the assassin. The mate was practically begging the big dog to do it again. Not so high up on the evolutionary chain these birds, whatever kind of birds they are.

But I digress. Today's bird was in the house for approximately 5-7 minutes. It flew around wildly, crashing into windows as it looked for an exit. I followed it with a kitchen towel to try to escort it to the open slider. I screamed the whole time, not at the bird but at the three terriers who were circling and jumping on the couches and windowsills after the bird in question. While fleeing the three terriers, the bird shit several times right in mother's house. Do not tell mother. Please. I'm thinking of calling in the Mexicans for an emergency cleaning.

Eventually, the bird flew so hard into the kitchen window that it knocked itself out. It fell from the glass straight into the dish drain, on top of dishes I'd just washed. Not eating on those dishes ever again. I thought the bird was maybe dead already but I wrapped it in a towel and took it outside to a bush. Birds like bushes, right? The bird didn't move and I watched its chest beat like crazy and its eyes follow me and then close and then open to follow me again. Did you know that even small dumb birds who are not very high on the evolutionary chain have eyelashes? Tiny fuzzy ones. The fuckers would be almost cute, you know, if they weren't just rats with wings.

I let the bird rest for a while. I guarded the bush because the three terriers were circling like sharks. I nudged the bird with the towel and it moved a little. Hooray for the un-dead. I gave it a few more minutes, watched its breathing slow to something like normal, and then because I was totally tired of my new gig as bird-security guard, I nudged the thing again with the towel until it flew away. It went straight up into the tree where its previously murdered brethren once came down and never went up again, but oh well. It was out of the house. The dogs' hands remain bloodless for yet another morning. I can return to my cold medicine and hot tea. Suburban victory.