This morning I got up and went out to the garage to price some stuff for a garage sale. I had been in there for about 5 minutes totally oblivious when I almost stepped on a bird lying on the floor. I froze and checked it out quickly from a safe distance. I don't know how I didn't see it sooner. There were feathers all over the floor around it and the bird was still alive but definitely not moving.
I went and woke Brandon up, notified him of the bird debacle, and solicited his help in removing it so I could continue my work. This was not the way he wanted to be woken up this morning, but he came to my aid. Now, my husband is a sweet guy and in most cases, a tough guy, but he does not like dealing with dead or dying animals. Well, who does really?
So the two of us discuss our strategy in the garage, armed with our garden tools. While we're assessing the situation from different angles, this poor bird is looking at us and its little body is moving up and down. I reassured Brandon that the bird could not fly or it would've by now. Our plan, after we talked ourselves into it, was for him to use the hoe to drag the bird into my shovel and then I would walk it out of the garage and toss it. The handle on the shovel is shorter than the one on the hoe so I had to get closer to the bird to put the shovel up against it. Brandon was leaning over behind me and began his first maneuver. He puts the hoe carefully on the opposite side of the bird and attempts a quick jerk to get it into the shovel, but the bird starts flying right at me! Brandon is quickly out the door and I am right behind him screaming while my knees and arms are flailing. Before I became pregnant, I was a regular jogger, not fast, but efficient. I am sorry to say that if I am ever in extreme peril, I have no confidence in my ability to escape quickly. All my finesse goes out the window and I run in the most awkward and ineffective way possible. This compounded by my normal 9-month waddle had Brandon laughing hysterically at me, and I must admit, his squeamish reaction cracked me up as well.
So now we reassess the situation, and I swear the bird is laughing at us. All my confidence and hope is shot now that I know the bird is not just alive, but capable of flight. We consider coaxing cats to go in and get the bird...make a sign that says "Free Food," we discuss just closing the door, letting the bird die peacefully, and then returning later to extract its lifeless body, but the bird has ended its flight directly between us and my cell phone. So one of us has to go back in. Brandon explains to me our options: "I could go in there and get your cell phone and we could leave the bird, or I could try to scoop and throw it towards the door with the shovel." Since I am not going to step back into the garage, I leave the decision up to him. He collects himself, calmly walks past the bird, brings me my cell phone, and then goes back in with the shovel. I'm standing in front of the garage but to the side asking him what he's going to do next when, in one swift motion, he launches the bird into the air. Again I'm in direct line of this thing, and my mind is telling me to run, but my body is slow to react. Before I can even start to move, the bird hits the side of the garage door with a final thud to officially put it out of its misery. Brandon's apologizing for the aim, blaming it on the angle he had to take being crammed in by the mower, and I'm having to recollect myself after twice yelling and running frantically away from the flying body of this poor devil-bird.
Thanks to my brave husband, the bird is now dead and no longer tormenting and teasing me so I can continue my task in the garage. This is one time I wish we were on a reality show so a camera crew could've captured and preserved the event for our future entertainment. Stovers 1, Bird 0.