Wild Kingdom Returns
I just came home to more birds in the house. Thankfully, they were not in my bedroom this time. I think I’ve finally figured out how they are getting in.
Today I’m sick. As sick days usually turn into cleaning and shopping days, I went out to grab a few things at Target. When I came home, Cleo did not run to the door to greet me, as she usually does. Instead, I spotted her low-crawling into the sunroom. From her odd manner, I thought she was hurt and started calling her. I followed her into the sunroom and saw that she was stalking two birds.
I closed the sunroom door and let her have her fun for awhile. I still feel bad about spoiling her hunt in my bedroom. The birds flitted and pooped. Cleo twitched her tail and meowed. I searched the house for the breach.
I think the birds are coming in through the kitchen exhaust fan. It is an old-fashioned fan. When the blades aren’t spinning, something as large as a bird could enter the house. The flap that covers the outside is ajar, leaving the entry wide open. My suspicious were further confirmed by bird poop on the stove.
After the birds had been sufficiently tortured, I ousted Cleo from the sunroom and opened the screen door. The birds flew away. Kitty Cleo is mad at me again. I suppose I am in for an afternoon of bad behavior, like houseplant munching and chandelier boxing. Now I’ve got to figure out how to make the fan bird-proof.
posted by Kasmira at 9.2.05
2 Comments:
I can remember, many years back when I was in high school, a bird fell through our built-in-oven exhaust pipe and landed in the vent above the oven. (A cage at the top of the pipe was subsequently installed.) We could see the little thing, terrified, but couldn't actually get to it because the oven was built into the wall. We're both vegetarians and could not bear to see this little bird come to an untimely end.
We made several calls to various local emergency and animal services--including the fire department who, when we told them we had a bird in the oven, laughed, asked if it was a turkey, and then hung up. A very kind policeman and burly friend eventually came out, shut off our gas, and literally yanked the oven out of the wall then forced open the vent to the house. The bird, with some encouragement, flew out absolutely confounded and panicked.
I can only imagine the laughs the gentleman got when they went home and told their families about the two ladies with brooms, running around frantically trying to shoo the bird out the back door before the housecat became involved.
Ah, birds.
Cleo ... what a nice name for a cat. Ours would probably die from excitement if a real live bird got in the house. Alistair loves to stare out the window at them, twitching his tail, and Henry is an expert feather-fishing-pole catcher.
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