This morning a bird flew into my sitting room. When I come in close contact with small animals I often associate this with my late father saying hello. Many people recognise this feeling. After all why does this small animal single you out?
I get this feeling when I encounter butterflies, ladybirds and lonely bees. Actually my father was the opposite of a small animal. Yet I am reminded of him by the small ones. I think that’s because he was so adorable.
However if you are confronted by a poor little bird fluttering about until it literally drops, it is quite a different story.
This was not the first visit by a bird. On the first visit, after two hours of frantic flying and screaming under the direction of Alfred Hitchcock, it was exhausted to death even though I had opened all doors and windows. Then I gently moved the little bird onto the balcony and placed a saucer with water next to it. Half an hour later it had gone, most likely snatched by a crow.
Now there was another little bird trapped in my room. I heard him the moment I emerged in my birthday suit from the shower. He fluttered behind the curtain. It could be the incarnation of a deceased teacher or uncle. The kind of uncle whose birthday parties resembled hell on earth, you simply don’t know.
I started to jump up and down while uttering strange noises to scare the bird away. Actually he made haste to escape swiftly through the open window.
I imagine he is briefing nearby birds to avoid flying into my flat: ‘I didn’t do anything, I just fly in and what happens? An awesome fat naked man comes after me!’