Yet Another Journal

Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.

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» Monday, February 09, 2015
"Wren I'm Calling Youuuuuuuu...."
or "Strangers in a Strange Land"

It was all so innocent.

After a relatively warmish day, it began to get chilly. We had supper and I watched last week's episode of Sleepy Hollow. Tonight's Doctor Who was one of my favorites: "The Sun Makers," writer Robert Holmes' satire on the British tax system, a story that features one of my favorite actors, Michael Keating, who was chosen to play the role of Vila on Blake's 7 based on the part of Goudry in this episode.

Then Sleepy Hollow came on. About three-quarters of the way through it, Tucker needed to go out. James isn't hooked on SH like me, and went to take him. James was coated, the dog was leashed, James opened the door...and then he shouted, "Oh, no! A bird just flew in the house!"

Actually, it wasn't one bird, but two, as one came fluttering into the living room while a second zoomed on into the dining room. When I got over being flabbergasted, I had a chance to observe our little visitors. They were two little Carolina wrens, very astonished over where they had ended up, and very confused in trying to figure out how to get out of this brightly-lit trap. They kept fluttering up to the ceiling and bumping. Snowy gave them a big-eyed glance, but never let out a chirp, and Tucker came charging up the stairs to chase these appealingly fluttering morsels. We literally collared him and locked him in his crate as we watched the wrens either trying to hide in a tall spot or flutter away toward the ceiling.

Eventually I ended up covering Snowy, so he wouldn't get a draft, turning off the television—thank God for DVRs!—and most of the lights, then putting on the lights on both the deck and the front porch and opening those doors wide open. I hated to do it and frighten the poor wrens even more, but I got the broom and tried to steer them toward one door or the other. James picked up the brush that went with the tall dustpan and tried to direct them when they got off course.

Finally one of the two zoomed out the back door, but the second wren was persistent, lighting from the kitchen to the china cabinet to the top of the ceiling fan. Once he fell behind the curtains in the living room. Finally he fluttered into the foyer, at first blending in with the berry wreath on the coat hooks, and then beating his wings at the wall facing the street. This tired him enough that he fluttered down low enough to pass the top of the door frame and straight through the open front door. We shut the front door with some relief and then had to laugh because it all seemed preposterous and bizarre!

James figured they had been taking shelter from the freshened wind in the winter wreath on the door and when he opened the door they were startled and flew in. I hope the little guys found each other again!

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