What is it with me and wildlife?
Friday night MJ said that she thought there was a squirrel or bird in the attic. I blew it off.
Saturday morning she texted me while we were at a basketball celebrations – “I really truly think there is a bird in the attic.”
Saturday afternoon I saw the bird – sticking his disgusting, oily head out of the ornate, metal fan on the top of my slate roof. His claws were scratching the metal and his wings would slip out between the bent metal slats, but his body would not slip through. His panic and his screeches still haunt me.
I am deathly afraid of birds. I also have issues with rodents.
Wait…did I share the mouse story here? Or just on Facebook?
Oh my…let’s rewind….
It was October of last year, and my parents and I were moving my full size bed up to MJ’s room, because I was getting a king-size bed from my aunt and uncle.
We moved the top mattress up the steep staircase to her room, came back to my room, and as I stood in the doorway, I let out a blood curdling shriek, which made my step-mom let out a shriek, which made my dad start yelling something along the lines of (but probably more explicit) “OMG…what is with you two? Settle down!”
What did I see?
I shudder at the very thought of it.
On the box springs, right under where my head would be during a restful night’s sleep, was the perfect flat-as-a-pancake silhouette of a mouse. Although I was 20 feet away, I had no doubt in my mind that I was looking at a deflated, dehydrated, petrified mouse corpse.
Well, my stepmom and I run out of the house screaming…because you know, a deflated, dehydrated, petrified mouse corpse CAN do a lot of serious damage.
After my dad, my HERO, cleaned up the little mouse body and put him in the trash can outside, we proceeded to move the box springs upstairs.
If you’ve ever moved box springs up steep steps, you know it’s not easy. Imagine being so freaked out, you don’t want to TOUCH the box springs because it just feels…well, dirty.
Long story short, the bed is now in MJ’s room, she never heard the tale (nor will she until she no longer has that bed!) and I still have no idea how long that little thing was under my head.
For several nights, I had trouble sleeping because I could not imagine it wiggling its way between the mattresses and getting stuck and just DYING there…right beneath my head!!!!
Back to the current wildlife situation….The bird, who MJ has named Ernie, is not in the attic anymore.
Nope…he is in the wall.
Yes, stuck in the wall between the kids’ bedrooms.
No longer having the strength to fly up out of the wall, he’s stuck there….for good.
Scratching, flapping, clawing, and squawking. He’s been in there for 24 hours.
I can hear him right now. It. Creeps. Me. Out.
Ian slept with me last night. MJ said he was quiet all night and it didn’t bug her. In fact, she’d rather have him in the wall, than running across her ceiling as he was the day before.
I just talked to a pest control fellow…he said that he will send somebody by to take a look from the outside and figure out where he got in.
As far as being in the wall, he said there is little I can do at this point.
Ernie will just have to die in there.
When I asked about the smell of a dead bird in a wall, he said, “Nah, there isn’t much to a bird. It’ll be fine.”
Yeah, it’ll be fine.
If you’ve read Divergent, which I just finished a week ago, imagine that horrific scene…you know the one.
It’s all I can think about.
I’m not a heartless person. I just have issues with wildlife invading my personal space.
Bless MJ’s heart for naming the little guy. She has made me feel a tiny bit bad for him. But she has also created a vision in my head that just won’t go away. A vision of a pathetic, helpless bird who has no chance.
Right now, I am just trying to picture a pretty little tombstone on a grassy little hill with a few simple words:
“RIP Ernie. May you be happier than a bird with a french fry.”