Bird House

I was living with my family and my parents and sisters in a big house in the mountains, surrounded on all sides by spectacular views. The best view of all was in my parent’s bedroom, with huge double windows that opened out onto a mountain vista. You could see sharp blue sky, a snow-peaked mountain, and all kinds of birds. I watched with my parents as peregrine falcons swooped onto alpine marmots. The marmots twisted and struggled in their talons. Other birds appeared on the scene, excited by the commotion. There were gannets, vultures, herons, and even a spoonbill.

All of a sudden, many of the birds decided to fly into the bedroom through the open window, including a large Ruppell’s griffon vulture which crashed onto the floor. I helped my parents usher most of them back outside, but the vulture refused to budge. It began speaking in a woman’s voice, asking if it could stay for a while until its broken wing healed. I shouted to my daughter to make a nesting box for it. Nobody seemed particularly shocked that the bird could speak.

Then there were great rolling waves from the lake lapping at the window, and water sloshed inside. I told my father to close the window but it was too late, and now we had fish coming into the room. A pufferfish lay deflated on the bed, and I stopped my mother from picking it up just before it inflated and pricked her hand. She wore a thick gardening glove, but I insisted it wouldn’t be enough to protect her from its poison spines. I called my wife and daughter up several times to see what was happening. Neither of them were interested.