The Lodger

3 Mar

Rustle. Tap. Rustle. The clock says it’s 7am. Too early for the gardeners. What is that noise? I lie and listen. It sounds like the crackles of a plastic bag being crumpled. It’s coming from the bathroom.

As I drag myself out of my duvet cocoon I hear a cheep, followed by the unmistakable call of a kiskadee coming from the vent for the extractor fan. I look around the bathroom for props and settle on a deodorant can to tap the vent with. I wait. Silence. The bird has gone.

Rustle. Rustle. Cheep. It’s 7.15am the following day. Sigh! The kiskadee is back. And it sounds like she is setting up home with us.

A kiskadee where it should be: outside of my bathroom

For the last week, Rich and I have become like parents to a newborn baby. She wakes us like clockwork at ungodly hours. Bleary eyed we stumble out of bed to shush her. Twenty minutes later she is squeaking again.

We wondered how the pesky thing had got in. We stopped wondering after about one minute when we went outside and found a large hole in the wall. Apparently the builders didn’t feel it was necessary to put a cover on the vent opening, despite it being big enough for mammals to saunter through. Yes, saunter through. They don’t need to squash their feathers or flatten their fur. It’s like The Plaza in there.

I tried playing Mariah Carey in the bathroom to see whether that would get rid of her. Instead she began cheeping in an even higher octave, as if trying to emulate the diva! I feared I’d created a monster – a bird that was a Mariah Carey fan. I half expected her to stick her beak through the vent grate and present me with a rider, demanding the vent be repainted lilac and filled with earthworms exactly 3.5mm in diameter.

At the weekend I headed out to do some volunteering and left Rich to try to get the kiskadee out before the kiskadiddies arrived. How would he attempt to achieve this feat? By er… shining a torch around for a bit. Did he expect Mama Bird to emerge to see what the fuss was at her front door, so he could cordially ask her to fly along to another nesting place? Unsurprisingly the bird stayed put.

It seemed we were stuck with her – until Sunday morning. We awoke at a much more palatable 8am to…quiet. No rustle. No tap. No cheep. Had he really done it? Was my husband a super talented negotiator? If he’d managed to get that stubborn bird out, clearly he could be a serious contender for coaxing bin Laden out of his mountain cave.

Alas, on Monday morning we were awoken by the familiar noises. Mama Bird had apparently just chosen to have a lie-in and, like us, was back to work on Monday. It looks like we are going to be parents for the foreseeable future! Still, at least there are no nappy changes.

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2 Responses to “The Lodger”

  1. Lucy 8 March, 2011 at 8:09 pm #

    Sounds as though we are both going to be parents soon, I’ve got one in the chimmney!! I was going to look up from the bottom but I was too scared about what may drop out on to my unsuspecting face!

    There’s also a huge nest in the tree outside my bedroom window. Why do the parents feel the need to announce their arrival to eachother so loudly?!

    But despite the English moaning, they are such beautiful birds! I wish I had a garden with a bird bath! x

    • suscatty 9 March, 2011 at 6:31 pm #

      Hi Lucy

      Haha! Yes you may have got an eyeful! You’re right though, they are beautiful, and in terms of noise – they are nothing in comparison to the tree frogs who will soon be squeaking their socks off every night! You’ve got to love Bermuda’s unique wildlife 🙂 x

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