Jane vs. The Grackle

I had a rough week at work last week. My mood seemed to deteriorate every single day and the fact that it was Friday wasn't even helping. I headed home for lunch, let Sparky out and confirmed that Jinkies was indeed holding down the bed.

As I finished up lunch, while watching the local news, I couldn't help but become annoyed by Sparky's new fascination with the basement door. I set my dishes in the sink, walked back to the basement door, ready to swing it open with a big, "See? There's nothing there!" But was beyond startled by something flapping about in my face. SLAM! "What the hell was that?"

I was trying to process my new winged friend and due to it's size, figured it must have been a bird and not a bat. Now I needed a plan of attack to get it out of the house. I called my coworker Jeff and he said to call Mark because he's a pro at getting varmints out of his house. Mark attempted to be helpful, but I don't own a net. Second suggestion was gloves and a sheet.

The Bird Catching Attack Plan:

1. Close all doors within the house.
2. Put Sparky in his crate.
3. Prop front and back doors open.
4. Gloves on.
5. Zip up hoodie and cinch hood as tight as possible. (I'll admit, I almost armed myself with my paintball mask.) 
6. Extend sheet and open basement door.

And of course the darn thing flutters down the stairs and the great basement chase begins! My basement is unfinished with low ceilings and duct work that I can hit my head on. Oh, and by this time, Jinkies has graced us with his presence... only to sit their and continually meow at the situation.

I'm going to guess that I spent about 10-15 minutes racing back and forth after the bird with my sheet in tow. At one point I had him pinned in the rafters behind the dryer, but my reach was not long enough gnab him.

At this point I went upstairs to make sure I didn't have any additional unwanted visitors. Ya know, with the doors being wide open and all. All was good, thankfully. I regrouped, shed the hoodie, and snagged a bucket. Back downstairs, I searched for a makeshift bucket lid before I remembered and stole the 5-gallon bucket lid from the hibernating canna bulbs.

Then I realized I only had one set of eyes watching me. The Grackle.

Well, shit! Upstairs I run to retrieve that darn cat. Jinkies was just hanging out in the backyard. As if this fiasco wasn't enough entertainment for him. Geesh. Back downstairs we go and IT's ON! I wish I could say I miraculously caught it in a minute flat after diving across the basement, ripping it out of the air in mid-flight with the bucket, and then triumphantly slamming on the lid. BOOYA!

But this was not the case, sooo, after another 10-15 minutes I had the little bugger cornered within a 'V' in the rafters. The bucket was positioned on one side and the lid on the other. My friend, the grackle, would not willingly hop in the bucket. I couldn't even startle him in with a little banging.

I was forced to put the lid down. With catlike skills, I batted him into the bucket and slammed the bucket flush to the ceiling. It's Trapped! Okay, but now I need the lid. Thank goodness I was able to set the lid within reach and not on the floor. Phew! I squiggled the lid in between the bucket and ceiling.

Here's my friend, I mean nemesis as he waits to be released. I had him chill in the kitchen while I closed the front door. Then I set him outside and closed the back door behind. Sorry, but you're not getting back in this house!

I gotta say, I was quite proud to have caught the grackle by myself. Although, I was kind of hoping that Jeff or Mark would have volunteered to drive the 1 mile to my house to help me out... my work big brothers let me down ;) . At least I know I can totally handle situations like this myself, and I had an awesome adventure to boot. That's one way to lift away the crankiness, and set your Friday straight.