A garage is no place for a family…
Stepping into one’s garage is usually an uneventful affair. It’s a familiar space, filled with items you’re used to seeing, like boxes of Christmas decorations, tools, and various garden utensils.
But, what if there is an invader waiting for you? That sense of routine security is shattered when you realize that your garage is not just your garage anymore — it is someone else’s home.
This is what I encountered Monday, just as I was about to hop on my bike and head to the office for some Memorial Day work hours. As soon as I opened the door to the back of the garage, I saw a swirl of feathers whipping around like it was caught in a funnel cloud. I also remember feeling something hitting me somewhere on my torso, but I didn’t think much of it as I retreated from my usually safe garage space.
From outside the door, I could make out a bird flying in chaotic circles, hovering over a newly built nest perched just above my car. The bird was in full defense mode, acting like I was the one who just encroached on her personal space. We had a pretty clear conflict here. I needed this space to enter and exit my vehicle and grab my bike from time to time. This bird needed the same space to lay and protect eggs, hatch some chicks and get them started on their young avian lives. It was pretty clear from the bird’s reaction (and mine) that we couldn’t “share” the space with some unspoken treaty.
In fact, the bird had already fired the first shot in the battle over the garage. That sensation I felt on my torso turned out to be a well-aimed glob of excrement from the winged guardian squatting in my garage. I didn’t even notice it until I went inside to let my wife know about the bird, and she informed me of the white spot on my shirt.
This, of course, did not inspire me to seek a resolution with the bird. There would be no “two-state solution” in the works. I would be reclaiming my garage as soon as I could. Fortunately, the bird decided to make an exit as soon as I opened the overhead door. With the interloper gone, I grabbed an old broom handle and used it to yank the nest off of the light fixture over my car. There were no eggs or chicks inside, so I didn’t hesitate to toss it into the garbage bin.
Unfortunately for this particular bird, it will have to start over building a nest somewhere else. It’s not like we’re completely unaccommodating at the O’Brien house. We currently have a pair of birds raising a new batch of chicks on the inside of a wreath on our front door. This is the third or fourth bird family we have allowed to do this — despite the cleanup required. Once they come into the garage, though, that’s where I draw the line.
OUT FOR A WALK
KEVIN O’BRIEN
EDITOR
