Today as I was eating lunch and reading this week's Willamette Week, I detected some movement on the edge of my vision and saw a ball of fluff gracelessly plop down outside the window adjacent to me.
I turned to get a closer look at this object and staring back at me was a drab-looking bird. It looked somewhat young, according to the tiny section of my brain dedicated to ornithology, and my immediate concern was that this was some inexperienced juvie who just fell from its nest on the roof and is now stranded on the window sill. My less immediate concern was whether or not this situation would interrupt the rest of my sandwich-oriented lunch break.
The bird certainly acted the part of a newbie as it fluttered its wings and kicked its legs out and about, all of which scratched against the window. It also looked at me and made chirping noises, which were barely audible through the inch-thick and unmovable glass.
It seemed to give a disconcerted look (if birds can be said to give "looks") as if to say, "What the fuck, dude? Give me some help here."
I was just about to go around to ask for assistance to rescue this bird that's stranded outside the third floor of an office building, when I then wondered exactly how we would go about rescuing this bird that's stranded outside the third floor of an office building. Well, that question didn't need to be answered because it suddenly took flight and headed for the nearest tree.
A-ha! Problem solved I guess.
Talking later with a co-worker about the wayward bird, she expressed some surprise as she has never seen a single one land outside our windows. Huh, I guess that makes me pretty unique, right?
Yeah, well, whatever. At least I got to eat the rest of my sandwich with a unburdened conscience.