Terror in Italy

It’s one of those things that you think will never happen to you. You go about your business every day never thinking that someday, it might. It strikes fear into the hearts of ordinary men and might even reduce the likes of Arnold (Schwarzenegger) to a quivering mass.

The day started normally enough. I woke early to prepare for my second day of Italian class (also fear-inducing but a story for another day). I sat on the sofa looking through email, sipping my coffee. I heard a muffled noise but figured that it was likely something just outside the window on the ledge. Of the two windows in my living room, one was open to let in some fresh air and the other was closed.

Moments later, my nightmare began: from the corner of the room near the closed window and edge of the book case there was movement. “There is something… or someONE… in my house” I quickly ascertained. From the shadows, beady eyes watched my every move. And suddenly, the intruder revealed himself.

A scream erupted from my throat as a hawk flew directly toward me. With a 5-foot wingspan that seemed to engulf my small living room…

OK, maybe it wasn’t a hawk.

A GIANT pigeon, the Schwarzenegger of pigeons, was in my…

OK, it wasn’t a pigeon either. But it did have wings, and feathers, and was clearly as scared as I was. I knew it was likely inevitable that, in a city that lacks window screens, a bird would one day find itself in my apartment.

I am going to admit a painful truth about myself: I have a paralyzing fear of things that flutter near me. This includes moths, butterflies, birds, and the worst fluttering creature on earth – bats. I can appreciate the beauty of butterflies and birds as long as they are far, far away. [I wonder if there is a 12-step program for this problem?]

But back to the horror show unfolding in my living room. This poor little bird (sparrow, perhaps?) was trying desperately to get through the closed window and out into freedom. “Birds: Not so smart” is all I could think as this little creature ignored the open window just 4 feet to its right. Thank goodness my living room has a door, which I promptly slammed shut behind me.

I fought my fears, armed myself with a broom and dustpan and ventured back in, hoping that I could cross the room and open the window where my nemesis lingered. My heart was pounding wildly. Important note: I was not intending to hurt it, but in the event that it came in my direction I could at least shield myself with the dustpan and push it away with the broom.

I crossed the room, whimpering and whining in fear, listening to the manic wing-beat of the terrified little bird against the window. Using the dustpan to keep it from flying right at me, I did manage to get the window open and then beat a hasty retreat back into the hall. But the bird wasn’t getting it and flew up onto the top shelf of my floor to ceiling bookcase and sat next to a large speaker. I stood in the hallway, door cracked, watching it. I wanted to take a picture to document my torturer but my camera was being held captive in the living room…. Damn bird.

With class starting in just 20 minutes, I shut the door and figured that the bird would eventually figure out what direction to go in order to get out. Upon my return 3 hours later, I cautiously opened the door. No movement. Scanned the room. My feathery friend seems to have found his way to freedom.

While I have loved being on the top floor of my building, looking out over the roofs across the street, the scene before me now has a more ominous undertone…