This morning I couldn't find Poesie. We had opened the house for her to explore and we assumed she'd be in the attic somewhere. I went up there, began searching and heard an animal struggling somewhere in the room. I turned in the direction of the sound and caught the swift movement of a swallow.....stuck in one of my clear plastic storage boxes! Obviously we have a hole in the (NEW) roof somewhere and the swallows decided to add a back door to their nest. Shocked and spooked, I gently put my fingers around the little bird and tightened my grip as it struggled against its captor.
I ran the three flights of stairs down managing to unlock the back door with two fingers and set the birdy down on the patio to see if it would leave. It merely flopped over on its face. In the laundry room, I found the lid to a glass jar which I cleaned and filled with water and an empty cardboard box with low sides. The birdy appeared not to have moved at all and my immediate thoughts were, "it's too late." However, as I handled the poor thing, it once again struggled and then shit on my hand to show me that he was still very much alive. Confused and, I suspect, dehydrated, the swallow flopped around in the box, stepping in his makeshift water dish and leaving a new trail of excrement throughout.
I decided to just leave it there in a shady place away from the steamy rays of sun and hope that it would recover enough to survive. About an hour later I went to check on it and he was gone! The best places for the birdy to hide would certainly be behind or under any of the several large plant pots on the patio, so I systematically checked around and behind each one only to find nothing close to a bird. Either birdy got over his shock and flew away, or a neighborhood tom cat had a tasty lunch today.
Up again to the attic for the original purpose of my being there...the search for Poesie. I checked behind and under each and every box and shelf and chair and pillow at least twice. Hubby came to help in the search. We looked again in boxes, in closets, behind chairs, and found nothing. Hubby went to check the guest room again and I was panicking thinking that she had gone up there to hide and die. I decided that I had to start moving boxes out of one easy-hide section. One suitcase, 3 chairs and a camping tent later, a fuzzy little old kitty ignored me as I gently reprimanded her, "little tricky girl!" Ten seconds later, Poesie and I were once again downstairs where I was able to shoot some more gooey food into her mouth with a syringe.
I feel like a mommy bird.