A magpie got into the utility room. When I returned from my tennis this morning, all of the utility room windows were covered with towels and the back door was open. Mr. Waffle (himself returned from his run where he had a 5k personal best, who even are we any more?) was trying to help the bird to leave the house and the towels were to discourage it from banging itself against the window, a process which was unlikely to yield positive results. Our two children at home had already cravenly fled the coop (bird pun intended) leaving Mr. Waffle and the cat to tackle the problem as best they might (hard to say that the cat was really a help as such).
I went upstairs to have a shower and when I came down I went into the utility room confident that I could resolve the issue but what I would say is that a magpie is a large and slightly intimidating bird in a small space. I hotfooted it back to the kitchen and closed the door behind me. I pointed out to Mr. Waffle that, historically, the issue of birds in the house fell to his lot. “Why?” he said plaintively. “It’s bigger than all of us, probably the patriarchy,” I said and then proceeded to flee the house like my craven offspring.
This rather bitter message arrived in the family group chat some time later:
Mr. Magpie has left. Thanks to all who stayed to help.
In case anyone was unclear, he added: That was sarcasm.
