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I huffed my reply, “Babe, grab me the swifter from the pantry.” Ignoring her soft snort of irritation, I issued my command, hoping this damn bird wouldn’t emasculate me. It was a good thing I had the crowbar, right? Taylor Jane left the kitchen and for a moment we stared each other down. Man to foul. My eyes to his beady ocular orbs. I expected it to fly at me claws out and screeching, but it seemed as uncertain of me as I did of it.
“Here.” Nudging me, Taylor handed me the pole. “Don’t hurt him.” Pleading blues eyes melted my angst and I wondered how the hell I was getting this thing out of here without ruffling more than just a few feathers or putting holes in th
e kitchen’s new sheetrock. One second she was screaming bloody hell, and now she had her panties in a bunch, begging me to let this animal live in our half demo project. Unbelievable. I would never understand women.
“Wait in the living room.” There was that pout of hers again. What was she expecting with an infectious disease winged killer hanging out over the sink? I tried again, indicating the living room with a nod. “Please? It’s safer and I won’t have to worry about you getting clawed or me swinging too wide.” Hefting the crowbar I still held, she rolled her eyes.
“Hunter, you played football, not baseball. Don’t hurt yourself, please.”
This thing could have some communicable disease, probably a half dozen, and new ones not yet named by the scientists at the CDC, and she had the gall to mock my good arm. Taylor Jane muttered something about equal rights and entered into the living room, leaving me with something akin to Hitchcock’s The Birds.
Taking a deep breath, I squared off with my opponent. “All right, you beady eyed fucker, time for you to get out of my girl’s house.” I took a step toward him, one hand with the swifter and the other a crowbar, and it took off flying in a wide circle, screeching. The piercing sound surprised me, forcing a bob of my head down, and I was glad no one else was here in the house to witness this.
“Ahhh!” The swifter got waved in a compulsory arc followed by the crowbar and a duck for cover when it swooped down only to circle the ceiling a second time. Nothing about my time in the Marines could have prepared me for an enemy like this. “You’re going down, motherfucker.” Muttering under my breath, I dropped the bar and made a dash for the window over the sink, flinging the windowsill upward. The little bastard made another circle of the kitchen and I felt it challenging me, mocking me even, and my temper flared to DEFCON 6. I swore it dived at me and I ducked, crouching low, throwing my hands up and covering my head. I lunged toward it, trying to encourage it out the open window. “Grrrr!” I missed and ended up knocking over Taylor’s fancy life planning notebook that had a girly name I couldn’t remember off the counter, scattering her notes everywhere like a nuclear winter.
“Everything okay in there?” She was going to be pissed about the planner, but I had to pick my battles and right now getting rid of the Tootsie Roll Owl was my top priority instead of tertiary shade organized paint chips.
“Yup, almost got it worked out.” Everything according to plan…
“Are you sure, Hunter? Maybe I should call Chase to come over.”
I blew a gusting breath of air that lifted the nonexistent hair off my forehead. I didn’t need her best friend’s brother, my former football teammate, who happened to be a veterinarian, coming over to take care of this. I was a Vet of a different kind, and trained for shit like this.
“Nope, it’s fine. I got this. Go do something upstairs.” Please, woman, just let me fix this without you undermining me for once.
“Chase said he could come right over.” Taylor Jane yelled from the living room.
“You already called him?” Yelling back, I felt incredulous and hot behind my ears. Not even a minute and she’s called in backup, such faith she has in me.
The bird swooped down again before perching on top of a cabinet.
“Chase said—”
Interrupting her I yelled. “I don’t need Doctor-Fucking-Doolittle! Grrr… damn it.”
Taylor Jane really knew how to shrink my ego quicker than a cold shower. I hoped and prayed she stayed out and let me take care of this, my way of course. I might add a few more holes to the kitchen, but nothing I couldn’t cover up tomorrow. Another yell and scream, and I had the swifter up and underneath the vermin. Heavy breaths left my hands unsteady and I squared my shoulders, holding tight. The winged beast was less than five feet from me, and for something so small I freaked the fuck out like a virgin on prom night. The whole encounter left me emasculated, and if it was the last thing I did, I would win this battle of Man vs. Bird. I would do it for my girl.
Getting back to business, I raised the swifter up to level out the bird, and its eyes bore down on me. Deep breaths slowed my racing heart as I kept my arms steady to the point of cramping. “Easy. Easy, bird. That’s it.” I realized I was talking softly to a damn bird and I hoped Taylor Jane appreciated this by baking me some damn cookies, double fudge brownies, or her mother’s cherry tart recipe I loved so much.
Anxiety twisted my stomach in the hope for chocolate anything after all this damn effort. “Come on, Mr. Owl.” I moved him just slightly, but it wasn’t enough to get it out the window yet. “It’s okay, oh-kay, good boy. Please don’t fly in my face again.”
“Hunter?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, gathering a calming breath. Not now, Taylor Jane.
“Not now, Taylor Jane.” Gritted teeth, I scolded her in a deep voice as I lowered the damn puff of brown and gray feathers another fraction of the distance closer to the open window. Those black and gold rimmed eyes seemed to narrow in on me like lasers and if I was a lesser man I might have shit myself.
“Don’t hurt Mr. Hooter!” she yelled from the vicinity of the front foyer.
“Did you just name this bird?” Clenching my teeth would have my dentist pissed, but I was beyond rational emotion and I swear this bird had to be male because this felt like the worst pissing contest possible.
“Sure did. He’s cute, don’t you think? He needed a name, right?”
I was one hundred percent positive my best friend had it out for me. I would gladly take rabies after this.
“No. No, I don’t think so.” Grumbling, I kept my eye on the downy feathered prize that squinted at me. I was positive birds could do this, because that was exactly what it looked like as he was sizing me up. At least I could confidently say my dick was bigger not that it mattered.
A step closer had me coaxing the bird in a hushed growl. “Doing good, Mr. Hooter. No, nooo, don’t fly away, Mr. Hooter. Dooon’t fly. Please stop looking at me. Oh Jesus Christ, here we go.” Coaxing the wild bat of feathers, I stepped back, lowering the rod further outside the rim of the window and got the rod just beyond the lip of the window. “Oh Jesus, oh my, hey Jesus Christ. Oh shit!” I shook the rod with a good swing, knocking the bird off, forcing him to fly away from the house.
