We’ve had a bird in our attic.  I don’t really know if you can call it an attic, it’s more of a crawl space padded with insulation.  But there has been a bird up there for a few days now, and he has been VERY unhappy about it.  He sits on the hatch to the attic and yells.  He wakes my children.  He almost makes me want to go up there and get him out myself.  Almost.

Yesterday morning I was out on a date with Grace and Chad sent me a text saying the bird was sitting on the attic hatch (I had only suspected this until Chad confirmed it just then) and when he tried to lift it the bird freaked out but wouldn’t fly off.  The hatch is the only part of the attic NOT covered with insulation.  So when I got home, we closed the kids’ bedroom doors, nailed a blanket to the wall blocking the steps, and opened the bathroom door – for some odd reason, many homes in our area have an exterior bathroom door (yes, a 2nd floor door heading outside to your potential death).  Chad opened the attic hatch expecting craziness…. then nothing.  The bird had one leg on the hatch and one leg on the wall.  It would not budge.  I can respect that.  I was coming with a hammer to gently nudge it down, when it fell down.  This was when we got our first good look.  It had a few fuzzy feathers still – it was a baby.  Well, maybe a toddler.  Either way, it couldn’t fly yet.  Now he was freaking out.  So we nudged him to the bathroom where he eventually headed out the door onto the roof of our bedroom (our bedroom was added on later, it doesn’t have a second floor above it, it’s hard for me to explain).

So now Chad and I are on the roof with a toddler bird.  We let the kids come into the bathroom to look at the bird.  Grace, with her tender heart, asked, “Is it hurt?  Is it dead?  Is it gross?”  No.  They oohed and aahed, then we sent them back downstairs.  Then I was feeling bad for this bird who was now stuck on the roof rather than stuck in the attic.  It couldn’t fly!  I decided I was going to get it into a bag and take it downstairs into the yard.  Chad thought I was nuts, but knew I was doing it with or without his help. 🙂  Then, of course, the bird flapped into the gutter.  I am a clumsy person on the ground, so there is no way I’m going that close to the edge of the roof.  Chad sighed, and went to get the bird for me.  Then, the bird not-so-gracefully fell into the bush below, squawked, and his momma bolted down from the chimney of our house with a worm, yelling and saying what I can only imagine were things like, “Where were you?!?  I have been looking and looking!!  I heard you yelling, but I couldn’t get to you!!”  She flew back and forth from her nest to her baby.  Chad later found a hole in the screen of our attic just small enough for a baby bird, but not a momma.

It only took one squawk from that baby to get his momma’s attention.  That’s how momma’s are, though isn’t it?  We know each child’s voice, cry, cough, sneeze.  Our soldiers are always at attention, ready to spring into action, ready to be needed.  Can you imagine the panic of that momma bird?  Hearing her baby call for her, but not able to get to him?  I can just picture her, sitting on the other side of that screen telling him, “I’m right here honey!  I’m trying to get to you!  You’re ok, I’m right here.”  Her voice is strong, but her heart is scared.  I’m so glad they’re together again.