This was one of those times when everything just kept going wrong.  Not for me this time, but I’ve had plenty of days where I was sure I should have stayed in bed for the day.  This story is actually about a bird, but believe me, you’ll be able to relate.

I’m not really a cat fan, but I am a fan of my daughter.  Kelsey was staying with me for a bit, so her Tabby cat, Mufasa, was a guest as well.  She loved that cat, and he seriously loved that girl.  I had a dog door on the backdoor of my home, which Mufasa quickly figured out how to use.  At first, he would go just outside and hang out on the back porch.  He occasionally would wander around the backyard or go to the property line, but I never saw him go much further.

I guess cats will be cats, or so I’ve been told.  And what better way for Mufasa to show his inner tiger than to take up the sport of hunting in the backyard?   It was fun to watch him pounce on a moth or grasshopper.  He was so proud of himself as he developed his skills.  Of course, he wanted his girl to be proud of him too, so he started bringing her his hunting prizes.  At first, it was dead bugs which wasn’t too big a deal.  But I guess the real prize was to bring her something that is, shall we say, still moving.    At first, the poor creatures didn’t have a chance, but he kept at it.  He graduated from bugs to lizards, which was a treat, especially when they were still wiggling in the middle of the kitchen somewhere.   There were a few that I had to chase down with a broom and a dustpan.

One time Kelsey came home from work and found a non-wiggling tiny baby bunny in the middle of her bedroom floor.  I won’t tell you how she found it, but I’ll let you guess.  It had something to do with not turning on the bedroom light and being barefoot.  Yea, gross.

When Kelsey shrieked and told me to come to help her, I ran to my bedroom, dove under my covers, and repeated over and over, “Your cat, your mess…your cat, your mess…your cat, your mess!” I still smile when I think about it.  (Poor bunny.)

So now that I’ve laid the foundation, I can tell you the real story here. 

One afternoon Kelsey came home from a friend’s house to get ready for work.  There’s no proper way to say this, but she was…um…on the potty when she got a little surprise.  As she was sitting there, a bird flew over the shower curtain and into the bathroom.  As tough as Kelsey can be, she does have a couple of fears.  One just so happens to be the fear of birds.

Oh, how I would have loved to have seen her scream and run out of that bathroom with her jeans still around at her ankles.  She ran down the hallway to my bathroom to finish her business and get ready for work.

I spoke to Kelsey on my way home from work, and she let me know what had happened.  My first question to her was, “Did you close the bathroom door?” She said, “No way.  I wasn’t going near there.” So, now I knew there was a live bird somewhere in my house. 

 It was a weird feeling knowing there was an animal in the house but not knowing where it was.  Although, it would have been much worse to learn of the visitor as Kelsey did.   Was it still in the bathroom, or was it now somewhere downstairs?  Had Mufasa found it again, and shall we say finished the job?

When I opened the back door and came in, I didn’t see any signs that there was anything unusual, so I headed up the stairs.  I very quietly climbed the stairs, hoping I would hear the bird and know where he might be.  It felt a little like a game of hide and seek.  I heard nothing.  You know that feeling you get when you’re watching a scary movie and you are sure something is about to jump out at you?  You want to cover your eyes so you don’t get startled, but you also what to see what is coming.

When I got to the top of the stairs, I turned left and went to Kelsey’s bathroom at the end of the hallway. The first thing I noticed was the “evidence” by the window and on the mirror above the sink.  There were a couple of small blood spots, and the other stuff birds do.  I thought maybe he went back to his hiding place behind the shower curtain.  As I slowly pulled it back, I reminded myself why it wasn’t a good idea to watch all of those thriller movies I liked.  However, the bird was not there.  All I found was more “evidence.” Oh my gosh.  Now I had to go bird hunting in my own home.  I closed the bathroom door and moved on to search my office. 

I felt like a Law-and-Order detective as I searched my house for the bird.  My office didn’t really have anywhere for him to hide.  The closet door was closed, so I checked under the small couch in my office.  He wasn’t there, so I closed the door and moved on.  I did the same for Kelsey’s room.  I checked under her bed and in her closet.  There was no bird or signs of the bird.

Next, I moved on to my bedroom.  I had a huge walk-in closet, so I went in there first; no sign of him.  But when I walked into the master bathroom, I heard a very faint rustling noise over by the window.  There he was.  He has somehow gotten between the horizontal blinds and the bathroom window.  My first thought was, “Ok, good.  Now I know where he is.” And yes, he was most definitely still very much alive.  My next thought was, “How the heck do I get him out of there?”

It was early evening, and it was getting dark.  I didn’t have anyone that could help me that evening, so I closed the bathroom door and called a friend.  It was Friday, so he said he could come over the next day and help me get the bird out of the house.  I went about my business that evening, made dinner, did a little cleaning, and went upstairs to go to bed.  I crawled into bed and turned on the TV, still thinking about the bird, wishing I could solve the problem myself. 

A few minutes later, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  Are you kidding me?  The bird was strolling across my bedroom floor from under my bed.  Seriously?  I looked up and saw the door to the bathroom was slightly open.  Mufasa must have pushed the door open.  However, the bird had gotten away from him again, and Mufasa must have tired of the hunt.  I tried to come up with a plan.  I knew if I moved I would spook the bird, but I had to do something.

The bird waddled under my end table and then under my dresser.  When I saw he was headed for the door, I thought, no way am I going to be able to sleep tonight not knowing where the bird is.  I thought perhaps I could grab a towel and throw it on top of him, so I slowly got up from the bed.  He saw me and shuffled into my walk-in closet.  I quickly closed the closet door and breathed a small sigh of relief. 

The following day my friend Todd came by to help me get the bird out of the house.  I was sure the bird had not escaped the closet, so he grabbed a towel, went into the closet and closed the door.  He asked me to please not open the door, so I stood just outside listening.  It was quiet for a minute, and then there was a commotion.  The best way to describe the sound is that of the sound effects you would hear in a cartoon.  There was fluttering, a few crashes and bangs, and then a “gotcha!” the victory cry from Todd. A minute later, Todd walked out of the closet with the bird in a towel and a grin on his face.

You would think the story should end there with a happy ending for the bird.  Not so much.

Todd and I walked downstairs and walked out on the front porch.  Todd gently unwrapped the towel and let the bird go.  The bird immediately flew across the front yard to a tree a few yards away.  The weary bird landed on a branch, but within seconds two more birds flew over and knocked him out of the tree to the grass below.  It all happened in a split second.  Todd and I ran across the yard to the birds.  We shooed away the aggressors as Todd picked up our poor little bad luck bird.  As Todd carried the bird in his bare hands back to my front porch, we tried to come up with a way to help our little friend.

We knew he must be completely spent with all he had experienced in the last 48 hours.  He had been hunted and captured by a cat.  He had been in hiding with no food or water as he looked for an escape.  He was chased into a dark closet and then captured a second time.  And to top it all off, when he was freed, he was beaten up by those who should have been his friends.  Wow, what an awful couple of days.

I can tell you; I’ve had so many times where I felt like the bad breaks just kept coming my way, and the light at the end of the tunnel seemed dim at best.  I totally understand how difficult the circumstances of life can get.  However, I’ve learned that being grateful is the best medicine for my defeated heart in those moments.  Trying to think of things I’m grateful for forces me to focus on the positive aspects of my life.  It requires reflection and stillness, two things that can be difficult in our busy, overstimulated everyday lives. 

Todd held the bird long enough for me to get a small water dish and crush up some crackers.  We placed the crackers and water deep inside a bush up against the side of the house, away from Mufasa’s hunting grounds.  Todd placed the exhausted bird inside the safety of the bush in hopes the bird would gather some strength and rest.  I checked on him a few hours later, and he had flown the coop, grateful I am sure that he was far, far away from his last 48 hours.

Wishing you joy and peace,

Lorrie

Psalms 100:4-5 – Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.