Bird is The Word

There was a bird in my house. How it got in, I don't know. We just have plastic up and floor boards for a barrier between the upstairs of the house and the down stairs.I can hear everything that goes on upstairs. I started to hear it upstairs a couple days ago. Tweeting away. Just singing his little birdie lungs out. It must have been happy being in a much warmer place than outside in the wind.

Well, today I woke up and heard something in the plastic. Great, the bird somehow got in between the floor boards and the plastic. I kept my eye on it so that I could catch it in the plastic and just get it out. Simple as that. Ahhh......no. The little bugger found a hole in the plastic and was loose downstairs with me. It was setting on the top of the wall looking at me. Our walls don't go all the way to the ceiling because we have 9 foot ceilings and 8 foot walls. We are going to put in drop ceiling tiles. That way Hubby can have easy access to the water pipes.

Anyway, the little birdie was looking at me from the top of the wall. "Oh how cute," I thought. I went most of the day wondering how the little birdie could get out. It wasn't bothering me. Maybe I should put out some water and food for it. If it had been in the house for a few days, it wouldn't have had anything to eat or drink. I would go through the day and every once in a while the cute little birdie would flitter around from one wall to the other. Every once in a while, it would sit looking out the window. Such a sweet and cute little birdie.....

Then the birdie pooped on my bed and pillow. NOT CUTE!!!!!! BAD BIRDIE!!!!!! The little birdie went from a cute little birdie to a terrorist in about 3 seconds flat. The bird had to DIE!!!!!!! Okay maybe not die, but it did have to get out of my house. NOW!!!!

I chased that terrorist, I mean birdie, all around the house with a broom. I was not giving up. It hadn't had food or water for at least 3 days. I could ware it down.  So I walked. And, I walked. And, I walked. With broom in hand, I walked for about a half an hour. I was not giving up. The birdie went back and forth. From one room to the other. Me, with broom in hand, following it. I could see it was getting tired. I was winning. At one point I think it tried to dive bomb me. Nope, I was not going to give in.

Finally, I thought, even though it  might be negative 1000 outside, I had to open the door. So that's what I did. The terrorist, I mean little birdie, flew right out. But on it's way, it left me another little "present" on the floor as it went past me. Bye,bye birdie!!!!

So until next time,

Small Farm Girl, birdie wrangler.