While I was outside having my morning coffee, a couple of birds flew into the screened in porch. That was at about 8am.
It's almost 4pm and they're still flapping around in there. They can't figure out how to get out.
I tried enticing them with bits of bread crumbs at the door, but they didn't seem to notice. They'd rather fly into the screen, getting their beaks stuck, and leaving holes all over.
I tried shooing them out with a broom, but all that did was cause one of them to drop dead on the floor.
I really thought I gave it a heart attack, and I immediately burst into tears. It just laid there for a few minutes, not moving.
After that episode I decided better to ignore the whole matter until Jim got home. I like to leave the dirty jobs to him, like when one of the babies would poop in the tub during their nighttime bath.
"I've got a surprise for you in the bathtub," I would sing to him when he walked in the door after work. Worked every time.
As it turned out, the bird was not dead--only playing dead. How fucked up is that?
Maybe they're not as stupid as I thought.
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