Bird Night

The boys were both asleep in the back of the car when we got home from wherever we'd been. It was late. We quietly and carefully carried them inside to their beds and I went back outside to get some stuff out of the car. As I walked around the back of the car, my eye caught some movement at the front edge of the yard, nearly under the Russian olive tree.

I stared. I was having a peacock moment except this wasn't a peacock and I had no idea what it was. I went inside to get the camera and ran back out. I needn't have hurried. Jeremy came out a minute or two later, and yes, he could see it, too.

A bird. Black as the blackest crow. With a fluffy white clown's wig tuft of feathers on its head. Is that a chicken? I really didn't know. It was just standing there, looking around. It took a few steps this way and that. I took about a million photos and then handed the camera to Jeremy, who took about a hundred more.

Ok. Strange bird. Got photos. Now what do we do? Where did this thing come from and how do we get it back there? By now, it was exploring the yard--over to the round driveway, up toward the garage, in front of the car.

I figured it must belong to the people across the street. I knew they had horses and dogs and hadn't I seen ducks and geese in a netted pen near the horse paddock? I wandered over there to look while Jeremy babysat the bird. I looked closely into their bird coop and saw several strange looking birds--pheasants, funky-colored chickens, ducks, a rooster. Nothing quite so striking as our visitor, but I was sure this was the right place.

It's now approaching 9:30pm. I knock on the neighbors' door. While I do get a loud response from their two dogs--a pit bull and a smaller dog who growl and bark loudly from what sounds like right inside the front door and then run out their doggie door and around to the chain-link fence on the side of the house to get a look at me while they continue their warnings--no one answers the door.

I try again in a bit, even yelling and trying the obviously broken doorbell. No one is home. Finally I left a pink sticky-note on their house "I think you are missing a bird!" Meanwhile, Jeremy has gotten some gloves and the cat carrier and is thinking about attempting to nab the bird and cage it for the night. He was worried that the cat (or our friendly neighborhood foxes) might get the thing in the coming darkness.

I talked him out of it. "Won't he freak out if you stick him in there?"

Now our friend had hopped up the three steps to our front porch. This bird was checking it out, wandering from one end to the other. Almost like he was looking for something, he moved with the characteristic chicken head-jut, the head movement getting the momentum going for the rest of the body. He approached the wall of the house and suddenly flew up and flapped at it. After a couple tries, he realized nothing was happening. Perhaps the siding looked like steps to the bird. Next, he found the small wooden trapdoor that opens to reveal the outdoor spigot. The trap door was open, and the bird decided this was THE spot.I've called this bird a "he" here, but I really think he might have been a she.

If a bird can curl up, this bird did so. Right on that trapdoor plank. After a few minutes, the bird's head began to nod. Really. It was dark. The bird was asleep. Of course, we weren't, and I kept peeking out to see if the bird was still there. Yep.

Oh, how I fretted. What if it wandered away before we could get it back home? What if some creature got it in the night and I woke up to a bloody mess of feathers on my front stoop? What if the neighbors were on vacation for a week?

And when I was asleep, I dreamed of exotic birds and attacking dogs. I dreamed of opening my front door dozens of time to check if the bird was still there.

As soon as John was up, so was I, fulfilling the prophecy of my dream--opening that door and checking. And there was our friend, still on that trapdoor. Just waking up for the day. At 7:30 I was walking across to the neighbors' house in my pajamas, banging on the door and being frightened by the dogs again. No one answered. I tried again. Only the dogs. Finally, I yelled "I think one of your birds is in our yard" and I waited, thinking I had heard some human movement.

Yes. She answered the door, asking me what kind of bird it was. How did I know? "Some kind of black chicken with white fluffy feathers on its head." She didn't respond. "Well, is it yours?"

"I think so. I'll come see if I can get him."

And she got him. She looked at him affectionately as she held him in one arm. "He acts kind of goofy sometimes because he can't see well. I guess we'll have to keep him in the coop so he doesn't wander away and get lost."

I guess this is one way to meet your neighbors. And their chickens.