If a bird in a hand is worth two in a bush, is a bird in the living room worth two in the tree?

The title of this is my question of the day. Why is that my question? Well, let me explain.

This very silly songbird flew in through our open back door and landed on our wood flooring. Why was our back door open? Because the dog had just come in. As soon as I got up to shut it, there was the chirruping little bit of a bird. Rather than turning around and thinking, “This is sooooo not the great outdoors. I’m leaving this weird giant birdhouse.”, this bird flew in the completely opposite direction of the door that it had just come in through.

It found our fake tree and hid there. Meanwhile, Flash was being a little nutter and trying to figure out what this bird was doing in his home. I called and he came though. So, like the good little nutjob that he is, he went into his kennel without protest.

I come back from putting the dog in his kennel and find that the bird has disappeared. I was like, “Great! Maybe it figured it out!” Nope. No, this is not so. The bird started to chirrup from inside the snowman birdhouse that we have on top of our shelves in the living room. So, I get on a chair, hoping to put the bird outside with the birdhouse. As I’m reaching for the little wooden construction the bird comes out like a midget missile of feathery goodness, shoots across the room, brains itself on a window and dive bombs behind the couch, making it known with rather loud birdness that it objects to this treatment and would like to go outside.

I open every single door downstairs and it proceeds to brain itself on every single one of them and several windows. The two back doors have glass in the centre. The poor thing really kept going at those and chirruped indignantly every time it couldn’t get through. Meanwhile, there’s this bird sitting on our fence outside talking to the one inside. Here is what I imagine they were saying:

“Get out here already.”
“I would if I could, dear. But really, how do you get out of a two-legged groundling’s house?”
“Fly out the opening.”
“I’m trying! They have openings that aren’t openings. You would know that if you came in here with me!”
“I wasn’t stupid enough to do that.” (Insert patronizing laughter here)

The indoor bird then went and hung out on a picture frame, before it zipped around between the picture frame, the tree, the lamp, the couch, etc. Finally, while it’s zipping about I notice it’s always returning to the tree in the corner. So, while it’s zipping about I move the tree to the doorway. The bird makes it’s way over to this now very strange, moving tree and sits on the basket.

The bird sitting on the fence comes over, chirrups at it’s little buddy and they fly off into O’Neill. Anybody else want to bet that poor little bird who brained itself so many times is going to be mocked with birdish glee when they get home?

Now, to finish everything that I was trying to do before the bird came into my house so I can hopefully make it to my Japan Club meeting.