The Birds

I think part of being a feminist is doing the ‘man’ jobs. Even when you don’t want to. Especially when you don’t want to.

And yesterday I did.

About five years ago a family of baby mice fell onto my pillow. Although I was in the room, thankfully I was not in bed at the time. Ever since I’ve had a teensy (ginormous) phobia about little creatures getting stuck in my hair.  So when I realised there was a bird flying around B’s bedroom yesterday, while everyone else was out, I was more scared than it’s cool to admit to.

the birds

The week before another bird had flown into our kitchen. I’d grabbed the nearest man, who gently, and without any fuss, got it out again by opening the windows wider, while I cowered outside, hands protectively on hair.

Yesterday, I’d have happily ditched every single one of my feminist principles again, had there been another man around.  But there wasn’t.

I tried summoning one. But when A failed to pick up on the sixth go (something about having a proper job or something?) I realised I was going to have to do something about the bird myself. I put on a hat to stop it’s Kirby-grip-legs getting tangled in my hair and picked up one of B’s plastic toy logs to open the window wider. I had to get quite close to it. It was tiny. And terrified. And I would like to say that I had a sudden rush of empathy as I realised it was a lot more afraid of me blah blah, but I can’t.

I poked the window open a bit further with the plastic log as the bird got trapped between the curtain and the window. It kept hitting the glass. Every time I shoved the window it threw it’s tiny body against it even harder. Eventually I dropped the log and pushed the window open myself (I know, I’m expecting my Victoria Cross anytime now), the bird flew out and all was well. Except for the bird shit dripping down my bedroom mirror and B’s curtain.

The point is I’m really glad my kids weren’t here to see what a baby I was. Because now I can say that yes, of course mummy does things like rescue birds, girls do scary jobs too.

On a happier note, here’s a picture of another creature that I was incredibly brave about approaching. Mostly because I knew it wouldn’t get stuck in my hair.

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