Nine o'clock in the morning and I'm trying to get ready for work. *BANG* something has hit my window and I almost shit myself. *BANG* And it hit's it again. So I fly to the window myself, peer outside and ANOTHER fucking bird hit's the landing window.
He falls to the ground (3 storey house here) and land's on the grass. And he's wiggling away, gets his beak stuck in the ground and topple's over.
So I grab a tea towel, pick up the little fellow and bring him inside. If birds could drink he'd need a pretty strong whiskey to sort out the shock on his poor face.
Eh He was fine. My bloody heart wasn't but...shit.
And what was the response I got at the shop: Should have put it out of it's misery.
Me: but...he was fine.
Jared: even so.
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Mood:
Tired