A Lucky Bird

It was early afternoon on Friday, a warm sunny day. Besides a rare logging truck, the traffic on our rural road was light, the house quiet. I had opened every window to let in the fresh spring air. A soft breeze blew through the bedroom as I swept the forever-shedding dog hair into piles on the hardwood floors. Outside, I heard a boatload of birds twittering back and forth. Their songs were animated and cheerful.

All eight dogs were snoozing on the deck. Some, like Meadow, preferred napping in the shade and others like Rosie, Lucy, and Dawn stretched out in the sun, soaking up the rays like sunbathers on a Florida beach. The deck has a fence, and I had opened the kitchen door, propping it with a rock, so the wind didn’t slam it closed. I wanted the dogs to have access to their water bowl. Once in a while I’d poke my head out the door, but everyone seemed perfectly content, and for a full thirty minutes I was able to get lost in my thoughts while I cleaned house.

A stampede of charging dogs broke through the peaceful afternoon like a herd of elephants. Our whole pack stormed down the hallway, tags jingling, paws stomping, and bolted into the office. When I got there, I saw Ade and Rosie trying to climb the bookshelves after a little bird that fluttered against the wall. He couldn’t have been bigger than my palm with pale gray and white feathers, a black beak, and terrified eyes.

I was really getting worried that things were going to end bad for the bird because I couldn’t catch him. In less than a minute, the little guy did a whole lot of damage, knocking over a paper-mâché Don Quixote figurine, a framed picture, a cat-shaped bookend, and a stack of National Geographic magazines. But then again, I couldn’t really blame him. Eight beasts that wanted to tear him to shreds were watching his flight with drooling anticipation.

Luckily, in his frantic escape attempt, the bird started flapping against the window. I opened it wider and suddenly he was free. I felt ridiculously happy watching that lucky bird careen across the yard then disappear into the trees. But when I turned around, there were sixteen eyes glaring at me like I just ruined the best part of their day.