Being comfortable is something everyone enjoys, especially our pets/furry family members.
The other day before work the Niff opened the bedroom window about 8 inches so our littlest kittah Lola could sit on the sill before we went to work. The window wasn't cracked for more than 2 minutes when we both heard an explosion coming from the bedroom, followed by Lola sprinting out of there and looking over her shoulder as she got the fuck out of there.
Now, I've seen animals/cats/dogs get scared by loud noises or something fall quite often and I've never seen that kind of fear in an animals eyes before, much less a pet/animal running away looking over their shoulder. Normally they bolt and don't look back until they know they are safely away. Apparently, it was just that: Lola didn't know if she was safely away...
The Niff went to inspect what the fuck just happened when she walked up to the window and noticed the screen was destroyed...
and then she saw it fly into the air.
A giant fucking bird flew through the screen and was in our bedroom. Of course the Niff freaked out and closed the door, making sure the kittahs were on her side of the door, while I tried to figure out what to do.
I tracked it down to the side of the bed and it hopped/flew into our walk-in closet and hid in there. I got my Under Armour running gloves that were thin enough that I could feel the bird when I go to pick it up but still give me that layer of safety.
The little guy was scared and facing the closet wall so I reached down and picked him up, and this is what the guy looked like:
Obviously, not a pigeon. Not a crow. Not any normal bird. In fact, quite the opposite. But we'll get to that and the why in a bit.
I held him for about 30 minutes out the window so he would know he could fly away. I knew he was hurt so I didn't want to throw him into the air, I could tell he didn't want to go anywhere. He was pretty comfortable and his breathing slowed down to about normal and he chilled out in my hands forever.
After a while he started to close his eyes and just totally relax. He seemed like he just wanted to collect his wits and be off again, but he didn't really have a choice. All of a sudden he started silently retching as if he couldn't breathe. He did it over and over for about 30 seconds and his neck started going limp. He tried to lift his head, but he couldn't. And then his eyes closed and his little heart stopped.
Aside from a few key moments in my life when I learned that people either died or were about to die, it was pretty much the shittiest morning I can remember. Ever. I was hoping he would fly away and I'd have a cool story to tell people but the tragedy offsets any cool factor by a thousand.
I was heartbroken. I felt so bad and wasn't sure if he was gone at first but he was. I put him in a shoebox and brought him to work, where we have some really nice woods out back where I could bring him back to nature.
The natural thing to do at that point was call Fish and Game or the Audobon Society. I hit their website and was referred to a woman the rehabilitates birds to see what she thought.
FUCKING WORST MISTAKE EVER
The lady proceeded to tell me no fewer than 5 times that I was the cause of death: I gave the little guy a heart attack. I told her she shouldn't say that, that I felt bad anyways but she reiterated it again and again until the conversation was over. Rub some more salt in the wound there lady. Awesome. Yeah, rub it harder. Great. Feels better now, thanks.
Judging from the sharp ass beak and the crazy sharp talons and sheer size of the bird I could tell its a bird of prey. With the help of some bird lovers, a couple think it's an adolescent peregrine falcon and another think it's a hawk. Its hard to tell because at the size and age the colorings aren't full yet so it can be even harder. Don't get me started on the bird expert lady who said I was a murderer, she gave me at least a dozen answers and had no fucking clue whatsoever.
Thinking back, with all the information I have, what happened is quite simple: the bird was in the air near where we live, saw a yummy plump little kittah moving in the window and swooped in, feet first. This is why the screen exploded. Because the Niff didn't open the window all the way, the little guy hit his head on the window when he came in, which ultimately led to his death but saved Lola in the end from being breakfast. At the same time, with Lola taking off for her dear life, looking over her shoulder tells me she knew she was about to be fucked up if the bird caught her, hence her behavior.
One thing that made me proud about it all was when Lola was running out of the bedroom, Ray knew something was up and ran in. He tends to be one of the biggest scaredy cats in the world, but he knew she was in trouble and was looking out for her. What a guy.
I've been in a semi-funk about it since it happened and am still weary whenever the window is open and we aren't around. What are the odds, right? That's what I tell myself...but...if it can happen once...
