In Flight Entertainment

THE FEW WHO FLEW FROM THE FLUE

Sitting at breakfast on a fine Friday morning, the noise on the other side of the wall caused me to stop crunching on my apricot-pineapple laden toast, and caused Sue to stop probing her half-grapefruit with her spoon.  Aaaagh -- it sounds like we have a rat or a squirrel inside our wall I lamented.  Sue listened to the intermittent scritching and said, "No, don't you think that sounds like a bird?"  After a moment, I was pleased to agree with her sonic assessment.  The interior wall was adjacent to the fireplace that separates the dining room from the living room, and somehow a bird managed to drop into that space.  Well, we both had things to do that morning and I was feeling a bit of guilty prosaic pleasure with the thought that a dead bird inside our wall would not stink as much as a dead squirrel or rat.  We both left the house with the welfare of the sparrow in God's hands.

Sue returned in the afternoon to find a disrupted house.  The bird had managed to work its way from inside the wall, into the chimney flue and then dropped down onto the grate and worked her way past the fire screen and into our living room.  This unexpected entrance was a bit much for the dog, so he had retreated from the frantic sparrow to a more pacific pooch perch in the bedroom.  Meanwhile, the bird had been clever enough to work herself most of the way our of her predicament.  But now had to simply fly toward the light.  Unfortunately for her, the light was on the other side of the window.  Unfortunately for us, perched on this window sill was my radiometer.  A vacuum-filled glass bulb with a 4-panel vane that spins when hit by sunlight. One of those cool science toys that doesn't really do much, but does make me pleased at witnessing the power of photons and the feeling of connecting with the mysterious and invisible forces of nature.

Anyway, the sparrow, a visible part of nature, connected with both the window (which was immovable) and my radiometer (which was movable).  The radiometer fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand shards.  Sue noticed the shattered radiometer, then the bird sitting on the hearth, and then lots of bird droppings all over the house (another visible part of nature that holds no mystery for me).  She tried to direct the frightened sparrow out an open door, but the bird flew upstairs into Grant's room.  Sue closed the door behind her and was attempting to open the room's window when more bird poop emanated.  The second story window was a struggle to pry open, but when it was finally lifted, the bird flew toward the light, only to hit the yet to be removed window screen.  More poop.  The screen was wrangled free of its silt-encrusted seal and the sparrow was as free as a sparrow.  She flew unfettered toward heaven singing praises.

Meanwhile, back on the ground: With the great mess from the small bird, Sue set about wiping up poo lest we get bird flu from the bird who flew from the flue.