Copyright 2005 David C. Loebig
A Fine Feathered Friend...Anybody Want Him?
I found a bird recently. He alit upon a bush outside my window...really, he “alit” upon the bush outside my window. It’s not often you can use such a poetic word in real life, but it’s what he actually did. He alit.
So there he was, a domesticated looking thing, flapping around on the bush, peering in my window. In reality he may not have been peering in my window, but that’s how I want to remember it. It’s just more poetic that way. But he really did alight upon the bush. I’d swear to that.
I was startled because he looked a lot like a pet bird, not a wild bird, so I opened the window. He didn’t scare away, though he was inches away, and it seemed clear that he was an escaped pet.
The only thing to do was rescue him, and when I went out and approached him, he calmly looked at me and jumped on my finger. Okay, now what should I do with a bird? I had no bird feed, no crackers nor a tiny bird mirror so the little narcissist could admire himself.
I put him in my screened in porch in the meantime and asked him not to poop. It worked, because he didn’t.
Where could I put him? I had no bird cage, the neighbors had no cage, and the bird’s cooperation in maintaining good porch hygiene would eventually run out, so I adapted a readily available household space for the purpose...I put him in my fireplace.
I laid down some newspaper (avoiding The Brandon News, of course), brought in a few branches, and alit my bird in the fireplace...no, wait, I didn’t really alight him in the fireplace. I just put him there. You know what I mean, don’t you?
Now you wouldn’t have thought he could get out, would you? Well, he could. After getting oriented to his new cell, he discovered a way to climb the screen, nudge toward the edges to open a space and step out. Some logs leaned against the edges solved that.
To secure the bottom, I went to the next room to get some phone books, and when I returned, he was standing outside the screen near the bottom. So I re-incarcerated him and plugged that escape route by leaning the phone books against the bottom of the screen.
And you know what he did? This little joker stood on the branch and jumped into the bottom of the screen to push it out. It didn’t budge. My jail held. He jumped back on the branch and tried again as if he had experience at this. It didn’t work.
He became frustrated, I think he gave me a dirty look, and I’m certain I heard a few measures of birdie curses lilting from that cage. You can never really tell whether a bird is cursing or singing. I figure they do that to stay on good terms with all the other animals.
So I eventually borrowed a cage, bought some bird food and sought some advice, and I was my brother’s keeper for a weekend, or I may have been my sister’s keeper, who can tell, really?
He has since been adopted by a bird lover forever or until the owner turns up, whichever comes first.
And I tell you all that to post this public notice: If you lost a bird recently, contact me and let me know what it looks like. If you’re the owner, I’m pretty sure we can alight him upon you once again.
Dave Loebig writes and banters out of the Tampa, Fla. area. You can
banter with him at RandomDigressions.com.