Uninvited Visitors

Flapping wings and frantic tweets woke me. It was not a dream. Alfred Hitchcock was no where around. My bed is under a skylight and many mornings I watch little birds from the underside tap dance over my head. The Argelés Tabernacle Bird Chorus serenades the street from the roofs opposite. However, this flapping and tweeting came from my chimney.

When I looked up the chimney a soot-encrusted bird landed on the pine cone filled copper dish that decorates the fireplace when there’s no fire. He shook his head and took off circling my flat. His attempt to fly through a closed window stunned him, but by the time I found a towel to cover him for release he had staggered to a hiding place.

I opened the window and tried again to capture this. He took off running then flew to freedom.

This is the second time I have an early morning avian experience. Two years ago I was showering in Geneva when my daughter screamed, “Gwen has a bird.” Lady Guinevere (Gwen) has Garfieldesque body that moves slowly except when she’s hunting. Llara passed the cat through the bathroom door. Her legs were still racing although she was two feet off the floor. Her mouth was clacking.

Then Llara screamed again, “the bird is alive.” We shut Gwen in, threw a towel over the bird and threw it out the window. Gwen when released came out of the bathroom anxious to reclaim her prey. Meanwhile Llara and I were sure that the bird was telling its friends about its narrow escape and warning them that my balcony was probably not a good place to land.

Now listen up all you birds. Wait for an invitation. Attends une invitation. D'accord?