Picture the scene. A small, slightly crowded, studio apartment in a converted garage, a loft bed, curtained below to create a closet. A large cupboard, newly painted, with a stack of doors against it, waiting to be restored to it. And self and Small Daughter sleeping peacefully on the hide-a-bed (it's too hot up in the loft bed).
I wake to a violent scuffle, with sounds of what I can only think is a suckling pig being murdered somewhere in my apartment. I am bewildered, because, why would a suckling pig be in my apartment? The cats (there are 2) are chasing something, but I don't know what, as it clearly is NOT a suckling pig. I climb from the bed and go over to the corner, they have something pinned between the desk and Small Daughter's spinning wheel, I cannot see what it is, but the sounds emanating from the corner are awful. Whatever it is manages to squeeze behind the spinning wheel and under the curtain into my closet area. I go around to the other side to see if I can get a look at what it is, but no luck. Willow has the creature under my dresser, with much screaming and banging about. I am perplexed, how do I get this thing out from under my dresser, the closet space is so cramped.
As I stand there, listening to the battle, wondering what to do, something comes HURTLING out from under the dresser, straight at me. I scramble backward out of the way, falling over the stack of cupboard doors in the process, making an almighty crash. Small Daughter pops up out of the bed like a jack in the box with a "SON OF A NUTCRACKER!" She looks at me over the top of the kitchen island as I lay on the floor in the pile of doors. "What are you doing? Did you know there's a bird in here?"
Ah. It's a bird. I haul myself to my feet, my knee seriously bruised. There is, indeed, a fat bird in the high front window, trying desperately to get out. Now what? The thing is flapping madly, emitting shrieks of fright. Ok, well, clearly I have to catch it, but I am NOT thrilled with the prospect. I begin to madly think of butterfly nets, or perhaps I can just shoo it toward the door? This is ridiculous. The cats are prowling below the window, ready to pounce at the first available moment. I chuck a sofa pillow at them, but they ignore me.
Small Daughter walks over to the door and opens it. "Get me some gloves, I'll get it." I toss her her gardening gloves from under the kitchen island and she shoves the coffee table over to the windows as she is too small to reach them from the ground. She climbs up, reaches her hands up and gently presses the bird down, folding it's wings back against it's body. It screams, making me wince, as she grasps it and climbs down. "Poor birdie", she says. "And bad kitties!" She walks calmly out the door and opens her hands and the bird immediately flies away, (thank goodness). Turning to come back in, she strips the gloves from her little hands, tosses them in the hamper and says, "Well, shall we go back to bed?" Which, she promptly does, falling quickly back to sleep.
My hero.
