(Ed. Apologies to feminists for assuming gender. It makes this story easier.)
Today I was working and I heard a rustling like paper bags in the bedroom. I turn off the music and listen. There it is again! I go check out the bedroom, look inside, take a scan of the room, and see nothi.....oh wait. That's a sparrow. Perching on a shoebox. Inside my apartment.
Two questions hit me at this point - how did this bird get inside my completely-blocked-to-the-outside-world-I-mean-not-even-a-window-open apartment, and now how do I get it out. On a suggestion from the father-in-law, I put the cat in the bathroom, throw open the front and back doors, and try to scare the poor little guy the fuck out of my apartment.
Using a box (I use logic in crisis, not a "broom"), I managed to scare it directly into my closet, where it promptly got squished between a plastic bag full of stuff and the back wall. I tried to use the box to trap the bird and the bag at once, but I guess I moved the bag around a little too much and the bugger went under the bed. This is where I lost him for 5 minutes. After a bunch of snooping around with a flashlight, I found him sitting quietly (he was extremely petrified) next to Jess' bedside table. I proceed to take a candle out of our hurricane glassware, and scoop his little hollow-boned ass into his temporary cage. This is what he looked like:
So I dumped him outback, where he fluttered around for a little while, then settled down in a puddle of dirty water, where he has been sitting ever since, completely in shock, unable to face the world.
Goodbye forever, bird.
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