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The Monday after Easter started early as usual. The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., beckoning me to get to the gym to work off the ham and macaroni from the day before. I snuck downstairs to turn the coffee pot on for my wife who would be waking shortly to take the kids turkey hunting. We each dreamed that she would call soon after sunrise with an incredible bird story. Unfortunately, she was not the one to have a close call with a feathered individual. 

               

After dinner on Easter, my wife and I talked about the next morning’s hunt. I was working the next day. So with the kids off from school, she figured there is no better way to tire kids out than making them wake up at 5 a.m. 

              

I let the dogs out one last time and noticed a nest being made on our front door wreath. Not seeing a bird in the nest, I made a mental note to remove the nest before the nest had eggs. 

               

That night, our usually sleepy labrador paced the hardwood floors incessantly. The click, clack of his nails on the hardwood woke me up every hour. I checked to see if he needed to go outside. He just looked at me quizzically with his otter-like tail wagging. I figured he was just an old hunting dog that had a great dream about a duck hunt. 

              

When my alarm went off at 4:30, the lab was still pacing the hardwoods. I turned the coffee pot on and left for the gym, knowing that when I returned, my wife and kids would be out of the house chasing turkeys. 

              

At 6:15 a.m., I returned to an empty house and got ready for work. As the sun started to invade the darkness of our house I heard a noise. At this same moment, my wife and kids would be straining their ears to hear a turkey gobble. I on the other hand was surprised by a bird noise that was a little too close. 

              

I cracked my bedroom door open and heard clearly the call of a wren outside of my daughter’s room. Sure enough, the nest builder had snuck its way into the house when I took the dogs out the night before. 

             

My lab that roamed the house all night was only looking for this feathery friend to retrieve. I quickly grabbed a fishing net in the garage and ran back upstairs to catch the bird. It backed into a corner for what I thought would be an easy catch with the net. 

              

Slowly I went to scoop him up and the bird combined the “fight or flight” response to “fight and flight” as it flew into my face and down the hall. My reaction was the epitome of masculinity. I screamed like a middle school girl at a boy-band concert. 

              

While my wife was toting a shotgun in the woods, I was running from a wren, screaming and flailing a fishing net through the house. I finally caught the intruder and banished him outside (unharmed) for the charge of “breaking and wrentering.”