Where Birds Tread

Tufted Titmouse

I was thinking of renaming my blog Welcome to the Zoo.

Last night I was bitten by a bird. Yes, you read that right...bitten by a bird. Here are the events that lead up to this wonderful encounter.

As you know, our friendly flying squirrels are back. Actually, their neighbors that live just on the other side of the chimney (inside our attic) are also making us aware they are alive and well too. Yes, those stinkin' mice. I'm convinced they talk to one another through the woodwork. They are plotting the takeover of our house in the very near future. Did you ever read the Redwall series? And here I thought mice and squirrels were the good guys.

My husband thought he'd try and kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Who knew that's exactly what would happen. Kinda. He has the live trap set-up on the flying squirrels' jumping tree. He baits it with walnuts, which they love, and catches one every couple of days. At least that's what happened last year. The mice have caught on and so they climb the tree, get inside the live trap, steal the bait, set the trap off, then leave through the holes which are big enough for them to squeeze through. In the end, he catches nothing. Well, a mouse trap on the tree should lure the mice, right? Wrong.

Mr. Wonderful came knocking on the front door early last evening. That's when I knew there was trouble. Do you remember one of my first blog entries about the visiting Census worker?

No one uses the front door!

As I opened the door, I saw the beckoning finger. "Come here." Instead of catching a mouse in the mouse trap, he caught a tufted titmouse. Yes, it's a mouse, but the wrong kind of mouse. He obviously didn't get the memo.

For a tiny little bird, boy, did he make a ruckus. He was hissing at me. I opened the live trap and gently put my hand around the bird. A couple of his toes were caught in the mouse trap. Ouch. He didn't like the trap, but I'm here to tell you he didn't like me more. His little beak grabbed hold of my thumb and dug in. As I held him and removed his toes from the trap, he let go of my thumb and bit me again, this time even harder! "Listen, buddy, I'm not the one you should be biting!" Even after I opened my hand to let him go, he was still holding onto my thumb with his very sharp beak. He finally realized he was free and flew off. Poor guy. I'll bet he had a story to tell his wife. "Honey, sorry I missed dinner, but I was hangin' out on that big tree over there when all of a sudden..."

My flesh wasn't punctured, but he left two red triangular welts. Who knew a sweet little bird could bite so hard? My husband told me that next time I should wear a pair of leather gloves. Uh, no. There won't be a next time. No more mouse traps in places where birds tread.

I suppose if my toes were smashed and someone grabbed hold of me, I'd probably bite them too.

And just what lesson are we to learn from all this? It's time to move.


P.S. I grew-up in the country and I'm telling you animals stayed in their domain. We did have cats though...lots of cats. Hmmmm. Oh, Mr. Wonderful? Mr. Wonderful? Mr. Wonderful?