Something in our house was "off".
The yardstick we had above a door walkway lay on the ground.
A vase with dried roses was trampled on the floor.
The Wild Boar's head still grinned at us, but his sombrero had been knocked off. (The Boar was feeling festive recently.)
When I went into the kitchen I realized the window ledge had been cleared of all the little glass treasures I have collected and they lay smashed to pieces in the sink below.
The day before, S1 had gone upstairs to do his school work and immediately came back down. "Would you believe me if I said a bird was in my bedroom?"
I looked at his face. "I am going to have to say, yah, I do."
The bird had flown into a window when we were trying to catch it and it killed itself.
All I could figure is that another bird must be in the house as well.
How? I blame the littlest two but really, we have no idea how.
I worked on cleaning the broken glass as I thought of how insane our dog must have been acting as the bird had flown around the house trying to get out. We searched high and low and found...nothing.
Today I had the day off and I was determined to find this vicious vandalizing bird. My favorite drinking glass was broken, my little figurine from my Great Grandma's was smashed and my antique bud vase in darkest cobalt blue had its neck snapped off.
I sat on a stool in my kitchen, eating my cream of wheat, straining to hear any sound.
It sorta felt like I was stuck in a horror movie and I needed music to let me know if something bad was about to happen.
I sent a text to my friend, Alicia. "Remind me NOT to watch Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds."
The fluttering sound as she reaches the door? EXACT same sound behind my basement door.
I heard a fluttering and it sounded like it was in my laundry room so I literally tore the laundry room apart. In doing so, I found I may have hoarding tendencies. I had armloads of empty boxes in there. But you just never know when you may need a box! And if you need a small one, hey, I have one for you.
Even vacuuming behind the washer and dryer didn't turn up any clues. I sat on the, dejected. I was jumping at any fluttering I would see from the corner of my eye and straining to hear any odd noise.
I was hoping my dog would be on high alert as well. She was snoring but I fully expected her to come to my rescue.
Looking down into my scary basement and hoping nothing was down there, I heard a fluttering so close to my ear it knocked me over.
Where is that soundtrack music to life I keep asking for?
Behind our authentic 1900 basement door there was banging and fluttering. The door is always open and kept open by a small bookshelf in front of it. There was a small area behind the door and in that small area, there was a vandalizing bird.
I began moving the bookshelf filled with containers we use for leftover food from dinner (there hardly ever is any use for them), cake carriers and thermos' for games and beach days. Calling S1 down to help me, he eased the door open (or shut, if are me standing in the laundry room).
In S1's hands was a large net. He could have caught the tension in the air.
The grackle bird darted out and flew drunkenly around the kitchen. It knocked things off my clean window sill - ironically my little sign that reads "In Everything Give Thanks" had survived the assault of the day before as well as the assault today - and the bird stopped at the window to catch plan it's next attack.
Being blogging mindful, I squeaked out to S1 who was about to drop the net on the bird, "Wait! Let me get a picture!"
You're welcome. I knew you would want to see this photo.
The bird was caught, the house is now safe and rid of birds, my laundry room and basement walkway have not been this clean since I was nesting with S4 and my nerves have been sedated by the immense amount of cinnamon rolls I then made to recover from this trauma. The dog snored through it all, missing the excitement and the sombrero is atop the wild boar's head again.
Never ever ever a dull moment here.