Bird Cage

Birds appear throughout my novels. Kittiwakes. Gannets. Nightjars. Magpies. My fourth novel, The Nighthawk’s Nemesis, is about the murder of a birdwatcher (aka: twitcher) observing the bird migration along the western coast of England. I am fascinated by birds, and they are now returning to my world as spring migration has begun. Yes, I am one of those obsessed twitchers, out there with my binoculars and life list checking off new sightings and wishing for more.
 
We’ve had problems with birds nesting in the vine-covered trellises along the side of our house. They flit down our narrow driveway to build temporary homes among the contorted vines. I understand their actions. It’s a safe habitat for their fledglings. Unfortunately, it is also the only route to the garbage bins. Last year, an aggressive robin took on my husband, dive bombing whenever he walked by carrying trash to the bin. He responded with the garden hose, spraying his winged attacker. The two battled it out for weeks. The robin only grew more aggressive and, ultimately, my husband had to hide under an open umbrella whenever he took out the trash.
 
I resolved the issue this spring with bird netting. Farmers use it on crops, so I figure we can safely use it to prevent their nesting on the vines. My husband climbed a ladder by the first trellis and unfurled the 7’ wide net while I watched from inside the house. His arms thrashed the air. His hands flapped rapidly. Was he swatting hornets? No, he was battling the wind with netting he honestly could not see without his glasses. Mouthing a litany of curses, he gave up after the first trellis. I recruited our daughter to finish the project, and the next three trellises where shrouded with remarkable speed and two dozen zip ties. Walking down our drive was no longer a hazard.
 
Then I found a song sparrow fluttering behind the netting on the trellis my husband had covered. How did the poor bird get trapped in there? More importantly, how can he get out? While I considered fetching scissors to cut the net, he flit out on his own! An hour later, two purple finches sang to me from behind the net as if settling into a new bird cage. Well, damn! I managed to flush them out with no injuries and discovered that my husband had not secured the netting to the trellis. Those canny birds realized the net flapped wide open down either side of the 8’ trellis. An emergency call went out to my daughter for more zip ties. I’m not taking out the garbage until she arrives.
 
Life Lesson: Never underestimate the birds.