A Bird in the Garage, is Worth Two in the Bush

Twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Actually, there was a mouse stirring in the humane trap in our garage. So, I got bundled up and headed out to set him free in a nice little spot not too far away, while Ron stayed home to load up another trap with peanut butter in case our mouse visitor had any friends or family visiting for the holiday.

Just outside our garage is a large and, admittedly, overgrown bush that some of the local birds call home. Inside the garage there is not enough room for either of our cars. So, when we do step out of the garage to get to the cars or take out the trash, we often scare the birds in the bush. Well, unbeknownst to me when I left the garage last Wednesday night with our little mouse invader, I startled the birds and one of them ended up flying into the garage. I unknowingly shut the garage door trapping him inside.

I had grabbed only my purse and my jacket, and realized as I was headed up the driveway that my phone was still sitting on my desk, but figured it didn’t matter. I wasn’t headed far, and would be back soon. If I’d had my phone with me, I might have seen what has to be one of the funniest texts I’ve ever received.

Ron texted me, “Be careful . . . thought I heard something in the garage . . . bird??? Cat???” (I should note we do not have a cat.)

Oblivious, I returned a few minutes later with the now empty mouse container, walked into the garage, and then let out a scream as something flew directly at my head. I dropped the mouse container, ducked, and crouch-ran into the house slamming the door behind me. As I stood there trying to catch my breath, I tried to replay the scene in my head. Had it been a bird? A bat? I chanced opening the door to the garage to take a peak, and got another glimpse of the intruder as it flailed about in the crowded garage. Bird, I decided.

I called up the stairs to Ron, “You’re not going to believe this!”

“Oh, I am,” he replied. “I guess you didn’t see my text.”

So, with the mouse relocated, it was now time to help our second invader of the night get out of the garage. The first step was working up the courage to step back into the garage. You wouldn’t think two grown adults would be scared of a little bird, but I’m telling you when a panicked bird is flying straight at your head it’s unnerving. In the spirit of the season, it was our own recreation of the squirrel scene from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

As we stepped out into the garage Ron pointed toward the far end and whispered, “He’s on that box over there.”

Seconds later, a feathered missile headed for our heads. We screamed and ducked behind a garbage can. The next minute or so we ended up playing a live action hidden picture puzzle game as we tried to spot the now manic bird. “He’s on the blue kayak!” “He’s on that pile of boxes!” “He’s on the door rail!”

The problem, we realized, was the brightly lit garage. We needed to turn off the inside lights, and light things up outside to lure him out. Easier said then done when your exterior garage lights aren’t working. So Ron decided to back up my car and shine the headlights at the garage, while I bravely stayed inside with our feathered friend. In the dark. Where I couldn’t see anything.

When Ron rejoined me inside with the headlights shining in we couldn’t tell if the bird was still inside or not. Then Ron spotted a bird on his truck before it flew away into the backyard. Was it the same bird? We hoped it was.

After parking the car and closing the door, we waited a few minutes. Nothing flew at our heads. The garage was bird-free. We could finally eat some dinner.

— Alissa