Dripping down my entryway wall, there is what appears to be a melted Revello ice cream bar and it is forming a pool of white and brown goo on the floor directly beneath this rivulet.  I have just come in the door from a full day of meetings, and as I take off my shoes, I see the mess.  The perfectionist in me immediately thinks, “Who made this mess and had the nerve to walk away without cleaning it up?”  But since no one is home, and have not been home all day, I resist the urge to let out a roar.  I lean in for a closer look, tempted to do the sniff test, but I resist.  Instead, I see that the mess has spread across the floor of this small room off our kitchen, with another clump of white gunk landing on my brown floor mat.  Hmmmm….this is a curious looking ice cream melt, if you ask me.  I continue into the kitchen, and it is then that realization sinks into my worn-out brain.

This Revello bar is none other than bird crap.  You heard me.  A bird is in the house, and it is flying around my living room as I continue to find more doo-doo all over my table, two coats, the floor and my daughter’s birthday gift from her best friends from daycare.  I think there might be more, but this little inventory is enough to send me over the edge.

Make.my.day.

I set off in search of the bird, and I hear it before I see it.  The bird is flying desperately from window to window, alighting finally above a picture frame, accented by a floral arrangement.  I look at the scene of the disaster with utter dismay.  As luck would have it, my husband is out for the day, and I have about five minutes before a friend shows up to pick up my daughter’s clothing for a sleepover.

Grand on all accounts.  I can now say that I have had all manner of vermin infest my home, what with the mice, voles, the squirrel, cats, cluster flies, various bugs and beetles and now with two birds (count them!) checked off twice on that list.  It is getting to be a real petting zoo around here.

Unsure of what to do, I get the bright idea that I maybe, just maybe should open a window.  But, I really don’t want to go in there with the crazed bird that for all intents and purposes has diarrhea.  So, I stand transfixed for a few moments watching the poor creature fly from perch to perch.  And I realize something… I am the only one with the power to free this poor creature.  This bird cannot help itself.  I have to go in there and DO SOMETHING. And do it quickly before more diarrhea escapes and lands on my beautiful leather sofa.

Yikes.  Where is my husband when I need him?  I don’t deal well with critters.

I work up some courage, and head on over to the closest living room window to the bird but that also has the easiest framework to open.  The bird has flown over against the farthest window and is presently hidden from view.  My fingers are not working fast enough.  For if that bird flies up at me in terror, I will be out of here faster than a flutter of an eyelash.

So far so good.

I grip the window with my fingers, and heave.  Nothing.  I give it another try.  If that bird so much as moves, so help me…!  One, two, three…PULL..  The window has not been opened since last summer, and it is stubbornly resistant.  But, I manage to move it upwards so as to make a way of escape for this winged creature. I manage to get it half way up, then I turn, and make a beeline for the doorway.

I am such a girl about this kind of thing.

As it turns out, the bird was pretty smart.  Who knew?  It managed to make its way out of the window in record time.  As for me, I spent a good part of the afternoon, and three bottles of Lysol wipes, erasing all traces of my bird friend’s visit.  That’ll teach me to not leave the bathroom window open all day.  I think I’ve got that lesson pretty well figured out.  No need for bird number three, thank you very much.