Five years ago I drove to California with my son Matthew for his co-op assignment at K-Swiss Shoes in LA. We stopped by the Grand Canyon on the way. When we arrived there we immediately went to one of the main overlooks, I think it was probably Mather Point, where I took this photo. There were a lot of people there.
In the morning with the small amount of time we had, I wanted to take a sunrise drive along the east rim to Desert View, away from the crowds. It was a beautiful morning and a glorious drive as Matthew and I coasted along the rim’s edge, our car windows open, and with hardly another car in sight. Solitude at last I thought. I was commenting to Matthew what a wonderful idea it was to drive this morning and how much I was enjoying being alone and out in nature, when a little squirrel darted out into the road.
Matthew, as young adults are sometimes wont to do, started laughing at the irony. I felt like throwing up. There was nothing I could do. I killed a little squirrel.
It was quite pleasant and solitary at Desert View. Matthew climbed over a rail fence and made his way down on onto his own little private overlook. I stayed at the top and watched from above. I tried to forget about the squirrel.
Fast forward five years. Sunday night at about 10:00 I heard a clatter, a clang, and then a loud squawking noise coming from our chimney. I was certain somehow a bird had fallen into it. Mark went outside to see if he could discover anything.
I was formulating a rescue plan in my mind. “Maybe we should get a sheet,” I said. I can hold it over the fireplace opening while you open the flue.
“I think the flue is already open,” Mark said.
And then I remembered that the flue was grated anyway. I didn’t think there was any way a little bird would be able to get through and into our house. Short of attempting to dismantle the grate from the chimney, there wasn’t anything I could do.
The bird stopped squawking. All noise ceased.
I went to bed.
I hope we don’t find a little bird skeleton in our chimney someday.
It’s kind of like when the turtle got squashed by the mail truck, or the dove dive-bombed into our window. Our house with all it’s human hazards for little critters occupies this space. There’s only so much I can do.
Has anything like this ever happened to you? What do you do?