Wednesday 27 May 2009

The one about the pigeon

I don't have any phobias as such (and as a former psychologist in another life, I know the proper definition for one). But if I did have a certain Big Dislike of something it would be birds in confined places. Or perhaps more specifically, birds flying around inside my house.

Once, a few years ago, I was working from home and was on the phone to Important New Client, explaining how great my company was and the sort of work we could do for him and how professional we were, and so on. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed our cat go past the office and into the bathroom, with something in its mouth. I followed, just out of curiousity, still talking to INC. And was quite horrified to see cat and bird sitting in the shower, playing together. At this point I am not sure why I didn't make some excuse on the phone and hang up - but I didn't. I carried on with a perfectly normal conversation while running downstairs, and finding the biggest saucepan I could. By this point, cat and bird had followed me downstairs (or rather, cat had convinced bird using unfair means to come with him). I managed to shooooo-oo the cat away, trap bird under the saucepan and shuffle it out the window. And then thank the customer kindly for the big juicy project I just landed.

I am telling this story just so you know that I am not a complete wuss in a bird-emergency situation, but I would really really rather let someone else deal with it if at all possible.

Which brings me to the one about the pigeon. A few nights ago I woke up to what sounded like Anna playing with beads outside our bedroom door. It was a bit too early to get up and if she wanted to play with beads she could do it elsewhere, I told her. But Aksel told me to be quiet because Anna was still sleeping. And so was he. And to shhhh because it was just some animal on the roof or something.

But yesterday I was in the office, which is downstairs under our bedroom, and heard a scritch scratch scratch and being the girly that I am I waited til Aksel got home to further investigate. The office is next to the chimney and Aksel thought something was stuck in there. He opened the flue while I made a hasty move towards the door. Then he asked me to get him some gloves. Not those ones he said when I came back with some ordinary winter gloves. My skiing gloves, he said. The extra long ones.

Luckily, my brave husband has no problem with birds in confined spaces and he reached in and rescued a rather grumpy and stupid but otherwise completely fine pigeon and set it free out the window. While I crouched out of sight behind the kitchen cabinet - you know, just in case the bird could get me.
Aksel even vacuumed up the feathers. He really is very useful. I am definitely keeping him.

No comments:

Post a Comment