Starling in the Attic

On our first night in our new home, Taylor woke me from a sound sleep.

"Meghan, do you hear that?" He whispered.

"...Hear wha...?" I mumbled. My sleepy brain couldn't process what he was saying.

"There's something scratching in the attic. Listen."

I indeed heard scratching, but having been interrupted from my REM cycle, I really didn't care. I muttered something, then turned over and went back to sleep.

I woke in the morning to Taylor's ire and to the sound of bird chirps coming from the bedroom ceiling.

"There is a stupid bird in our attic!" Taylor informed me. "I couldn't sleep at all last night because it kept chirping and scratching and making all kinds of noise. We have to get rid of it!"

That afternoon Taylor called me at work to fill me in on his battle plan against our feathered intruder. He thought the bird came in through an unused vent pipe, which he would seal up.

"Wait a second," I said. "You can't seal the pipe with the bird inside the attic. It's starve to death."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do? I have to keep more birds from getting inside."

"You can't kill the bird! That's cruel." I sensed that appealing to the morality of a very tired and grumpy Taylor would get me nowhere, so I added to my argument. "Plus, if the bird dies in the attic, it'll stink up our room for weeks."

He grunted.

After work Taylor investigated the attic. Our bedroom has cathedral ceilings, so that part of the attic was walled off, and there was no way we could access the bird's hiding place. As Taylor sat on the edge of the attic entrance to think, suddenly the starling flew out of it's hole into the main attic.

"Meghan, help me get the bird!"

I came up to the attic with a small box. Taylor and I ran around unsuccessful trying to chase a terrified starling (which are pretty darn big!) and praying that the floorboards wouldn't break. The bird flew back into his hole. We went back to the bedroom and banged in the ceiling with a broom, but nothing would persuade the bird to leave.

After enduring another night of scratchings and bird noises, we got desperate. Taylor drilled 2-inch holes in the ceiling where we heard the bird scuttling around, and then waited. At long last, the bird flew out of the hole into our bedroom, banging into the ceiling and defecating everywhere until Taylor chased it out the window.

It turns out that all the effort really was worth it, as during my Internet research I found out that starlings are dirty birds that carry mites and lice and other fun diseases. Plus, they build these crazy nests that can engulf your attic, like this.

Taylor sealed off the vent where the bird got in the attic. I just hope we don't find anymore uninvited guests.