A little flutter

The man of the house is in foreign parts and I'm left in charge.  This morning,  light and bright with the sun shining through I  came lazily downstairs and into the kitchen where, as usual, a frantic Mars was hurling himself against the utility room door.  He wants his breakfast.  Suddenly I froze.  For coming from down the hall, probably from the sitting room was a distinct noise.  I tried to ignore it and gave Mars his breakfast.  But as he gobbled it down the noise repeated itself, followed by a crash and this time I couldn't ignore it.  Time for action I told myself.  Grabbing my 5 year old grandson's water pistol and with Mars at my heels I crept down the hall.  Not terribly confident with my armour.  Mars is only a spaniel after all.

 I edged the  sitting room door open and stood on the threshold.  Silence.  Had he/she got out I wondered?  Were they hiding behind the sofa?  Dreadful thoughts tumbled through my mind. Tentatively I clutched the pistol. Suddenly Mars dashed into the room and a large black monster rose into the air and lurched towards me and possible freedom.  I might have screamed a little bit for I was mighty surprised. This sort of thing never happened in London.  It was a great big black fearsome crow and flapping its wings madly it launched itself back into the room and crashed repeatedly into the french windows.  Looking around the room I could see that it had knocked down and broken our rather good table lamp, smashed 2 very lovely coffee cups our daughter gave us care of Damien Hirst and pooped in style over the majority of the cream upholstery.  I hastily shut the door.  A plan was needed.

I thought I was pretty OK with birds and often wondered what all the fuss was about in Hitchcock's famous film, but now I have every sympathy with poor Melanie. Quickly I found the 3 different keys needed to unlock the french window.  Still in my pyjamas I grabbed an old hoodie and pulled the hood well over my head.  Best to be prepared for being dive bombed or pooped upon.  Or both. Sliding open the sitting room door I crouched commando fashion on the floor and elbowed myself across the room, inch by inch and towards the door into the garden. Mars thought it was  great game and looked entirely more professional than me, crawling along with great gusto. Eyes darting sideways I watched the bird watching us.  We made it to the door and stealthily I stood up, unlocked the door  and pushed it wide open. Quietly we edged out of the room - backwards (a bit like in a royal presence) across the floor.  Mars barked, the bird sprung into life and flew out of the door into the garden.

The whole thing was a bit of a mystery to me.  As to how the bird even got into the room.  I can only guess down the chimney but the man of the house assured me that it had a static chimney cowl in place, designed for the very purpose of keeping birds (and vermin I believe) out of the chimney/house,  What do I know?