A Footnote In The Bird Saga

I can do many things: clean up puke in the middle of the night, jerry rig the toilet to flush with a shoe lace, hold Emma down while I brush her teeth. I can not catch a bird. I can't even get close to it without embarrassing myself.

And if it's hurt, flopping around the yard, I am really freaked out by it. I feel so bad. I wish I could catch it and take it to our local wildlife sanctuary. I can't.

Twice this year, we've had different birds with injured wings in our yard. The first time, Emma was trying to sniff it, I was trying to get her away, but when the bird changed directions and headed towards me, I ran to the house. Maybe, just maybe, I was screaming like a little girl. I was totally wigged out. I did manage to get Emma away, and the bird escaped into the bushes.

Yesterday, another bird was running around the yard, it's wing totally messed up. Emma would have made a great sheepdog. She herded that bird to exactly where she wanted it, she cut it off at every turn. She can change directions on a dime. She wasn't hurting it, only sniffing it. I did not want her anywhere near that bird. I was trying to get her away, while not wanting to get close to the bird.

Later I asked my sister if it was as comical as it seemed. She said yes, and terrifying. We all suffer from the same bird fear!

Everyone except Emma.

We got her inside, and didn't let her out until the kids went outside and said the bird was gone.

Whew. I don't care where it went, as long as it was not in my yard.