Funny thing happened on V-day...

Here's a story. You'll think it's funny. I'll be traumatized for life. So here goes.

Most of you know I have a fear of birds. Now when I say fear, I really mean phobia. When I say phobia, I mean panic attack. When I say panic attack, I mean Dean Winchester when he has ghost sickness and screams about the cat in the locker fear.

                                            
Now I love decorative owls around my house and I enjoy a pink flamingo as much as the next girl. (No, I don't have plastic ones in my yard, but never say never.) And Penguins are adorable - as a cartoon - but other than this, just no. It's the talons and the flapping and the beady little eyes ready to destroy you. *Pause for freak out dance* *shudder* 

                                         

I have a very old house, built before The War of Northern Aggression The Civil War and it comes complete with all the quirks and ghosts. One more thing it comes with is a wood stove. Obviously said wood stove has a large pipe that goes up and out into the smoke stack. It's an ongoing battle to keep the birds from nesting at the top of the stack. What is the fascination? We use the wood stove. We have tried to fix it so they can't, but time and time again, there they are.

                                                          

Now I have trouble walking down my drive way, which is clearly outside in a big open space, if there's a bird lounging in my path. don't even get me started about the day a hawk was sitting on the railing by the gazebo. A Hawk! Sorry, I digress. Anyway, once in a while (like every couple of weeks) it rains and get's super windy and a bird gets knocked down the flu pipe. It beats around inside the metal and makes me want to tear my hair out.

                                                         

What if it's gets in the house? What if it pecks through the pipe and comes at me a la The Birds? And normally, Hubby takes care of it. I don't know how and I don't care to know. All I know is that he comes in and says, "The bird's gone." I hug and kiss him and there is much rejoicing.

But he's away on business this week and about 2.5 seconds after his plane took off a bird fell down the stove pipe. It hung out in the pipe for a couple days and although I felt bad he was in there probably dying, I didn't feel bad enough obviously, because OMG BIRDS!!!!

                                                      

So yesterday, I'm at my desk, eating almonds, hanging out on Twitter and I hear tap, tap, tap. Not the normal bird in the flu noise. I get up to go investigate. It gets louder. And again, and again. My heart is beating so fast and I'm convinced it's coming through the pipe.

Then I see it. The flash of wing through the glass of the door. IT'S IN THE STOVE!!!! It had beat the damper open and gotten all the way down in. It really could get in the house. So I fret for a couple of hours while this bird goes to town trying to get into my house. And awww, hell no!

                                           

Now you might think I'm cold-hearted, but it's not like that. If a person I didn't invite came into my house I'd have much the same reaction. I'm equally territorial to all things. So I call Hubby and this happens.

Him: What's wrong?
Me: The bird. it's in the stove.
Him: Are you sure?
Me: I'm pretty sure. It's knocking against the glass.
Him: Close all the doors in the house. Open the front door. Open the stove. He'll fly to the light.
(Okay, my heart rate is making me dizzy at this point and I'm am in full on panic attack mode. But I decide I can't leave this bird in there until Saturday.)
Me: Ok. Ok, I'll try.

(20 minutes later I call him back.)
Him: Did you get it out?
Me: No, I can't open the door to the stove.
Him: Is it stuck?
Me: NO. I don't know. I mean I can't make myself. I feel like I'm going to be sick.
Him: (laughter) Just open it and he'll fly out.
Me: But what if he's hurt and he lays in the floor? Then I'll have a bird IN THE HOUSE and I can't help him. Or what if he turns on me?
Him: Turns on you?
Me: Yes. Because he's pissed from being in the stove.
Him: Why would it do that?
Me: BECAUSE THEY CAN SENSE FEAR. RIGHT? THEY CAN.
Him: Get a broom. You'll have it for protection.
Me: I can't. I can't. (bird freaks out) Okay, I have to.

So after much more crazy on my part, I open the front door, close everything else and open the stove. My hands are white knuckled, my face is scrunched. I'm holding the broom like I'm a Quidditch Beater and... nothing happens. The bird wasn't in the stove after all. So I decide I'm going to smoke him out because I figure this is more humane than leaving it in there to die slowly.

I leave the front door open mind you, just in case. So I gather some newspaper and a lighter and open the stove to light it up  and THE BIRD FLIES OUT RIGHT PAST MY HEAD AND OUT THE DOOR.

                                           
My heart is racing right now even telling you this story. *shiver* I drop to the floor like I'm under fire. I had a full on panic attack, complete with me getting sick, and then a call to the hubby to tell him of my success. I then lit a fire to warn all the other birds not to come near my house.

                                                   

                                                     
                                            As soon as the adrenaline passed I did this.

                                                

And that's my Valentine's day in a nutshell. Hope yours was as exciting, but in a totally different way.