It might be helpful to know that when we were growing up my dear sweet brother Peter (well, he's sweet now) had a bird, in a cage, hanging in our den. I have a heavy image of walking into the den and Peter saying "Get her Pete!" and the bird flying out of the open cage door and dive bombing me. It probably only happened once, but in my memory it's every day and every time I walked into the room. Today? I love birds from afar, but not up close and personal and certainly NOT in my house.
So…what to do? The open door and fresh air was not calling to the bird so I went and got my neighbor Roy. He said he would be over shortly. I returned home to find the bird continuing to slam itself into the windows trying to get out. As I spoke softly to it, it leapt for safety behind a cupboard. I got all the windows open and the screens off by the time Roy arrived.
Roy knelt down and spoke in whispers to 'my' Flicker. The bird hopped over to him! Roy suggested he fly away and the bird turned around, hopped back towards the windows and flew out. Thank goodness for my bird whisperer neighbor Roy.
The only good part of finding a bird IN my house is that my windows needed washing and with the screens all down it was a perfect opportunity.
Bird gone. Windows clean. Small pleasures.