Midnight Mutterings | Bird in the house, again

||| MIDNIGHT MUTTERINGS by JACKIE BATES |||

I’ve had several hummingbirds in the house in the last year, and all but one survived. But it’s stressful when a tiny bird enters the house and becomes trapped. Because there are few biting insects here, I don’t have screens and I open the windows and doors when it’s hot. When the breeze comes in from over the water, I appreciate the cool, salty smell of fresh air.

Still, I don’t know what attracts the birds. When they get in the house, the tiny hummers go straight for the skylights, which don’t open. I assume it’s the light that attracts the birds and which keeps them from finding their way out of the open doors. Once it was a pair of hummers, male and female who came in together. They flew around for a bit, then stuck themselves in the skylight, helpless against the pull of the light. Because the ceiling is high, I can’t reach the skylight, even with a broom, even when standing on a stool or chair. If I could reach the birds, I’d offer the broom, hoping they would step aboard and ride down to where I could gently lift them off the bristles with my hand and take them outside to freedom. Sure. Dream on.

With the pair of hummers, the female did come down from the skylight and circled around the house and flew out the door with the male following. Before I could sigh with relief and close the door, the male circled and returned. Now the dilemma: should I close the door so the female wouldn’t follow her mate back into the house, or leave the door open, hoping the male would go out of the open door. I chose the latter, and that’s what happened. That time.

Still, not wanting to repeat the stress to the birds or myself, I ordered a net from Amazon, even though I am not in favor of encouraging Amazon on principal. The net had a telescoping handle and I assumed it would do the trick, harmlessly removing the birds outside.

But alas, no. Even with the net handle fully extended, and standing on a chair, I could not quite reach the skylight. Nor could I reach it from the loft, even hanging over the rail. So the next time a hummingbird stranded himself in the skylight, I had to wait for dark when the light outside the door was somehow not as dark as the skylight, and the tiny bird exited on it’s own.

However, last week’s bird was not a hummingbird, though it was very small. I never could identify it, even with a book and the internet because the light in the skylight was too bright for me to see it well.

And, over the years I have lived in this house, I haven’t been able to reach the skylights and they have accumulated spiderwebs around the edges next to the glass. There’s a little rim of metal around the top of the skylight, where a small bird can just barely cling to rest in its fruitless escape panic.

I didn’t see the small greenish bird, just larger than a hummer when it came inside late one morning last week. I first found it in the bathroom, flying around. The lower ceiling meant I would be able to reach it with the net. I quickly exited and closed the door behind me and went to get my net. However, when armed and ready, I re-entered the bathroom, the bird escaped before I could close the door. So it was back to the skylight routine, just out of my reach with the net. After a while, the little bird left the skylight to fly around the room for a while. Somehow it got behind a curtain and was low enough that I just reached behind the curtain and gently caught it in my hand. It was then that I noticed that it’s feet were bound together with the sticky spider webs from the skylight. I took it outside on the deck where I could see better and began the difficult job of freeing its feet. The small bird’s feet were like black threads, not much more sturdy than a hummingbird’s. I managed to free one foot and was working on the other when the bird managed to wiggle out of my hand and fly away. I couldn’t see where it landed and cannot know if it managed to land on its feet when one was still bound by spider webs. Maybe I’m going to have to get out the screen doors, long stored in the the garage, or find a source of a longer handled net. Suggestions?

Or I will accept another of the compromises we make as the price of living among wild creatures who bring us so much beauty and wonder. (And while we bring them so much fear and pain.) Still, I won’t soon forget the tiny, racing heartbeat I felt with the fingers of my hand during the short time I carefully held the small bird captive while I tried to untangle its black thread feet.

Chapter Two: For the first time ever, I did my muttering two nights early. I know, I’m shocked too. Then yesterday, bird history repeated itself when a small greenish bird flew through the open door. I was really panicked as I’m planning to leave tomorrow and faced the possibility of having to leave with the little bird trapped in the house alone for a few days. Small birds eat their weight every day and need water regularly. Maybe I could leave water access, but what does a wild bird eat and would it find what I left for it, or would it spend the times beating itself against skylight for hours in the oppressive heat that collects there? This time was easier, though. The bird did not go directly to the skylight, choosing instead the kitchen window where it struggled behind the plants on the window sill.

All I had to do is reach behind the pots and pick up the tiny bird, who responded with indignant squawks as I carried it outside as gently as I could. I got a slightly better look at this bird and it seemed to be the same species as the earlier, not hummingbird. Could it even have been the same, slow-learner bird? The only difference was the first bird was quiet, possibly too tired and dry-throated after its long battle with the skylight.

Maybe I even managed possible identification this time. Best guess: a young female Pine Siskin or maybe an immature female House Finch. I couldn’t get a great look at this one either because it was in wild motion behind the plants on the window sill and mostly covered by my hand after I captured it. I tried to listen to bird sounds on the internet, thinking I’d recognize that squawk anywhere, but I was unsuccessful. Also, the frightened squawk might be very different from it’s regular call in nature.

I’m headed for Bellingham for a visit with the terrible cats. I’m so glad they weren’t here for my house bird adventures, given how much time they spend looking hopefully out of their Bellingham windows, chattering at out-of-reach birds. I can see that they imagine they could even take on crows, who would make short work of neophyte self-aggrandizing feline hunters. We are all mighty when looking from behind glass.