Alex heard a noise and shrieked: “Oh! Oh my god. Oh my god!”
“There’s a pigeon in the living room!”
“That’s not a pigeon. It’s a crow.”
We’d both had a few jars, but we weren’t imagining this. There was definitely a bird bounding around the bay window.
I may have been four pints in, but it was time for me to step up and save my damsel in distress from the feathered fiend.
I lifted my hood to stop it pecking at my head. Truly, I have never felt more heroic.
Alex grabbed a broom. Charitably, I thought it was to help guide the crow towards the window, but now she says it was more to protect herself.
It’s just as well one of us was feeling brave. I approached the area the crow had made home to open the windows and let it out.
Our sash and case windows are not designed for speedy opening, and it felt like an eternity before the catch was released and I could throw open the first window.
I ran back to the other side of the room and slammed the door shut to contain the bird.
It then flew back towards the window. But it went straight for the big one, which was still closed. If this was a cartoon, stars would be circling its head. But we were just glad the windows escaped unscathed.
I had only opened one of the side windows because the bigger middle one was slightly defective and wasn’t guaranteed to stay up.
But it was obviously far too much to expect this bird-brained individual to realise how to get through an open window. It was a bit like trying to let a wasp escape — but with a frightened, filthy, shitting dinosaur descendant.
There was nothing for it. We had to open the bigger middle window as well.
Then, finally, it got the message. It flew out the window, and carried on all the way up the adjacent street as though nothing ever happened.
Relieved, we burst out laughing. But attention turned to our Airbnb guest. A delightful gentleman, he was. But it had to be our first thought: Had our guest let the crow in?
The windows in his room remained closed — as did all the other windows in the flat.
We worked out that the bird could not have been in the flat for long, because it hadn’t actually caused much damage. That heightened the mystery all the more, because there hadn’t been anyone in the flat for about 12 hours.
Eventually we spotted a load of debris at the fireplace.
The crow had most likely fallen down the chimney.
Poor bird! It frightened the crap out of us, but I can only imagine what was going through the cursed crow’s cranium.
The dreams I had that night were particularly bizarre.
We are still discovering bird poo.