the hawk and the portrait-bust
so apparently the other day, in dallas, texas (mind you, an agglomeration of 5.5 million people)...
a hawk flew through a window in our family home. it shattered the window, and was there from (they think) about 10:30 am until sometime in the afternoon when my brother walked through the living room on his way to the computer room and there was a hawk in the middle of the floor surrounded by broken glass, squawking. he immediately called my father.
so dad gets there, and sure enough, there's a hawk in the middle of the living room. he has been trying to get out of the house all day, but hasn't been able to find the right window pane. so my dad goes around outside and picks the rest of the broken glass. this scares the poor hawk (who has been freaked out all day), so he flies into the dining room. er hat auch am Boden geschissen (he also pooped on the floor. i learned how to say that today right before i heard this story). he perches on the window curtain rod.
my dad and brother (and my brother's friend) empty and wash a windex bottle. they fill it with water. the brother's friends are given the tasks of relegating the cat and dog to their respective rooms, lest they interfere. my dad sprays the hawk, and, enraged, he flies down the hall and... crashes into the mirror next to the front door. house of LIES! he falls down below the mirror, right next to... a portrait-bust of my deceased grandmother, clara mae. so my brother watches it while my father goes outside, opens the front door, and enters again from the other side. he gently sprays the bird perched on the burnished bust of clara mae, and PRESTO! the hawk flies outside. they haven't heard from it again.
while telling me this story, my father got this excited boyish tone in his voice. afterwards he said "it was actually really cool. it was neat. well, you know, it had a happy ending and no one got hurt and the bird got out. so it was awesome!"
also, right after i heard this story, they were giving away free us geological survey maps in the library. and now i have a lot of them in my locker.
a hawk flew through a window in our family home. it shattered the window, and was there from (they think) about 10:30 am until sometime in the afternoon when my brother walked through the living room on his way to the computer room and there was a hawk in the middle of the floor surrounded by broken glass, squawking. he immediately called my father.
so dad gets there, and sure enough, there's a hawk in the middle of the living room. he has been trying to get out of the house all day, but hasn't been able to find the right window pane. so my dad goes around outside and picks the rest of the broken glass. this scares the poor hawk (who has been freaked out all day), so he flies into the dining room. er hat auch am Boden geschissen (he also pooped on the floor. i learned how to say that today right before i heard this story). he perches on the window curtain rod.
my dad and brother (and my brother's friend) empty and wash a windex bottle. they fill it with water. the brother's friends are given the tasks of relegating the cat and dog to their respective rooms, lest they interfere. my dad sprays the hawk, and, enraged, he flies down the hall and... crashes into the mirror next to the front door. house of LIES! he falls down below the mirror, right next to... a portrait-bust of my deceased grandmother, clara mae. so my brother watches it while my father goes outside, opens the front door, and enters again from the other side. he gently sprays the bird perched on the burnished bust of clara mae, and PRESTO! the hawk flies outside. they haven't heard from it again.
while telling me this story, my father got this excited boyish tone in his voice. afterwards he said "it was actually really cool. it was neat. well, you know, it had a happy ending and no one got hurt and the bird got out. so it was awesome!"
also, right after i heard this story, they were giving away free us geological survey maps in the library. and now i have a lot of them in my locker.