I unlocked the door and walked in.  My eyes quickly landed on a feather on the floor. Maybe’s been busy again…I knew there would be more to come. Where there’s feathers, there’s a bird’s body. Maybe is quite the hunter. I don’t like it, so I’ll blame it on the food chain thing. Maybe is six years old and is like me, stuck in her ways or #stuckintheonesies.

I peeked in every room but found nothing but more feathers. I walked into the kitchen to feed her. I keep her bowl in the bay window above the sink. Otherwise, her dog (and BFF), Noel, will help herself and her waistline can’t take it. I wasn’t sure what it was that I was seeing…

My bay window looked like a war zone. Potting soil from my basil and orchid plants was scattered, heirloom tea glasses broken and lying everywhere. It was obvious that she’d chased the bird and the poor fella tried to get out through the window. I could only imagine and it wasn’t pretty when I did. Here’s the amazing part, for all the mess, only one of the glasses got broken. The rest were definitely tossed about, but survived. There’s my silver lining.

No body was found, only noises in the living room loft (to which there is no access except via a large ladder). Maybe, Noel, and I stared and waited, but no luck. I went to bed that night making sure my ear plugs were in tact. Didn’t want strange bumps in the night to wake me. The next morning, I heard the bird again. He was on the ledge of the living room skylight. A big black bird.

I opened both living room doors and tried to shoo him off the ledge, but no luck. I sat working on my laptop and listening to the morning news. About an hour later, the poor bird fell from the skylight to the floor with a thump. I was able to scoot him outside. He was moving a little, so I scattered some birdseed near him in case a little nourishment might help.  It didn’t. He now resides in the Victims of Maybe cemetery. RIP.

Maybe that’s why my bird feeder doesn’t get much action. Pun intended.