I arrived home yesterday to find, what Bill Oddie would have no trouble identifying as, “bird shit” on the work-tops in my kitchen. Not just the one spot, oh no, but at least 6 semi-liquid spots on the work-tops, the window-sill and the sponge that I scrub the pans with. Bill Oddie could no doubt easily ascertain the incontinent feathered fiend but I was much more concerned about it’s current whereabouts. I looked all over my little semi-detached penthouse flat expecting to see a little bird on a shelf, or curtain rail, but there was no sign. “Possibly I’m up against the current hide-and-seek champion of the avian world?”, I thought. The little bugger would have had complete unfettered use of the air-space in the flat, with the possible exception of the bathroom. I searched the flat again, this time with a torch. On top of cupboards, under furniture, in cupboards, draws and boxes all to no avail.
I would have felt a little easier if I had found it and escorted it swiftly from the premises, but I didn’t. This meant that it could fly out of hiding when I least expected it! Possibly giving my heart a mild attack and also adding a few more grey hairs to my collection. It must still be in the flat… or it’s managed to get out the way that it came in, which must have been through the bedroom windows. These top windows I had left open about an inch (2.5cm post-decimalization) to let the air circulate. Last night I had finally decided that it must be lurking behind the fridge-freezer, in the space either side of the motor.
Tonight I arrived home and checked each room for signs of birdie activity. Nothing. I moved the fridge-freezer to find… still nothing. It has definitely left the building. There is no way that it could still be lurking around as I’m sure they are nervous and timid creatures. But not as nervous as I am… I should never have watched Hitchcock’s The Birds when I was at such an impressionable age.