The Trap (Final Chapter in Art's Bluebird Saga)

At our last meeting with the human mortal we call Art (after our beloved d’Artagnan), we three immortal Muskaducks had done what we do best these days – we had listened… and advised. We finally all agreed the male English sparrow had to go.

“So how did the man in the you tube… uh, euthanize the male English sparrow he caught in his trap?” repeated Arthos.

“It didn’t show how,” answered Art. “The video just ended with the captured bird in his hand, and didn’t go into what he did from there.”

 “Well that’s not very helpful,” said Aramis.

“You’re kidding,” said Athos.

“But the text below the video listed some options,” said Art.

“Life can be hard,” said Athos.

“It’s the death part that was bothering me,” said Art. “And the option for preparing the little CO₂ gas chamber looked depressingly complex.”

“There must have been some quick and easy options,” said Aramis, finally ready to embrace the inevitable.

“Actually, I concluded after all this research… that I would just buy a second birdhouse.”

“Awww,” said Aramis, starting to soften again.

“So I went back to Wild Birds Unlimited and actually had the second house paid for when the clerk said, ‘Oh look, here comes the president of the local Bluebird Society. Tell her what you’re trying to do.’

“Into the store came a sprightly older woman with short-cropped hair. I explained our situation with the sparrows. Then I explained my plan to sacrifice the first birdhouse to the sparrows and just hope they’d let our bluebird family occupy the second birdhouse. She just smiled, and looked me straight in the eye with a kind and understanding expression.

“She said, ‘You can’t allow any English sparrows to nest anywhere in your yard…”

“That’s what we advised you,” quacked Athos.

Art continued quoting the Bluebird Society president, “‘…because they will claim the whole territory and bully the bluebirds, or worse. They are a real threat to the native birds here. The English sparrows are not protected by law like the native birds are. There are no guarantees, but there’s a good chance your bluebirds may reclaim the nest box … IF… you trap the male sparrow and kill him. Then all his females will leave and the nest box will become available again.’”

“Oh,” said Aramis.

“Exactly what I said! I told her I’d seen that extreme solution mentioned on some web sites, but they weren’t clear how to go about it.

“She glanced at the clerk as if to say, ‘Well, we’ve got a real novice here, don’t we?’ Then this sweet looking grandma said, ‘You need to install a Van Ert trap in the box he’s claimed. When he goes in and springs the trap, then you put a mesh laundry bag over the box and release him into it. Make sure it’s a male English sparrow. Then take him in the laundry bag to a big rock and smash him hard on it, twice.’”

“I’ve done something similar to a few Englishmen myself,” said Athos.

“The next day I cleaned the sparrows’ nest clippings out of the nest box for the fourth and final time, installed and set the Van Ert trap, and then did my HP work on my laptop from the garden room, where I monitored the bird activity through our big picture windows.”

“When I looked up and saw the male sparrow land on the nest box with the trap in it my heart started beating so hard you’d think I was in battle or something.”

“You were,” said Athos.

“He went in through the hole. I didn’t hear the trap spring shut because I wasn’t outside, but I was sure it must have. Then to my amazement the little villain stuck his head out the hole and looked around. Then he flew out.  How is that even possible, I thought. “

“I’ll bet you set the spring too firmly,” said Athos. “You would need to set it on a hair trigger so the slightest weight would spring it. We did something similar in the battle of…”

“I know Athos, but not now mon Ami. Let Art finish.”

“But you’re absolutely right, Athos. I went out the sliding patio door, my heart still pounding like a jackhammer, and reset the trap on such a hair trigger that even a slight breeze would make it snap shut. When the trap is sprung in the nest box, a red circle shows through where the hole opening was so you can tell from a distance that you caught a bird. When I went back inside to wait, I was unable to work, so I just watched. Good thing, too, because now a female kept approaching the box with nesting material in her beak. I had to step outside twice to shoo her away. I knew if I trapped her I could still release her, but I didn’t want to deal with that.”

“Your chivalry is apparent,” I said to encourage our new friend.

“Thanks, Porthos, you don’t know how much that means to me,” said Art.

“The activity in the yard slowed down enough that I started working at my laptop again. Then all of a sudden, in my peripheral vision I saw something and glanced up just in time to see a bird fly into the box, which shook slightly as I heard the trap slap shut and saw little poofs of dust fly out of the hole, almost like in a cartoon. My heart had calmed, but now it went from 0 to 60 again as I realized this was really going to work, and I was really going to have to take action.

“I yelled to my wife in the other room, ‘Honey, I trapped a bird, but I’m afraid it may be a female,’ and headed out the patio door.  I opened the wooden door on the side of the nest box that has the Plexiglas so you can see inside, and found myself staring into the masked eyes of the male English sparrow! What a mix of emotions!  I was triumphant but also so upset about what I had to do next that I didn’t think to snap a picture with my phone.”

“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the sensitive Aramis.

“Yeah, mine too!” Art responded. “Prayer was called for, as I was still struggling with the next step.

“I placed the mesh bag over the bird house and released him into it. He flapped for a while, then stopped. I was making myself think more Old Testament than New Testament as I carried him in the bag over to where I had stacked three heavy flagstones behind our garage.  I had thoroughly briefed my wife on the possibility of this tactic, which I had put off for many days now. She agreed I should plan it so there would be no way she would by chance witness it out the patio windows.

“Because I did not want my prey to suffer, I swung him unto the rock pile with such nervous, determined energy that I’m sure an onlooker would have thought I was very cruel…”

Art’s voice had a catch in it.

“You did what you had to, Art,” said Athos. “War is hell.”

Next came the longest silence since the four of us had first met up only a few days before. We could hear the water rippling in the brook and the redwing blackbirds singing in the tall pines above us. 

Ichabod the big white crane soared overhead, then landed among the cattails in the shallow water of the nearby pond.

“So how are things now?” asked Aramis finally.

“Well, I remained kind of upset the rest of that day – mad at the sparrow for being such a reprobate…”

“I’ve know many reprobates of several nationalities,” interrupted Athos, trying to be helpful, “like the time…”

“Not now, Athos,” I said.

Art continued, “…and maybe even a little upset with Google for putting so much information at my fingertips.”

“Don’t fret too much about that, Art. Ignorance is not bliss,” I ventured. “Those bluebirds in your yard were not safe until you dealt with the sparrow who was usurping their territory.”

“Porthos, remind me to do a blog post about the Israeli settlements and the Palestinians,” said Athos.

“Anyway,” said Art, “we now have two bluebird houses up in our backyard, so one day maybe both will be occupied by bluebirds. Both are protected by Magic Halos (those “moat” things) to discourage any new English sparrows from crossing the barrier. I’ve seen some sparrows around, but so far none have threatened the bluebird territory.

“Now a bluebird family is happily consuming our mealworms, flying back and forth all day between the houses, the feeder, and the fountain. Their behavior seems to indicate they’ll start nesting again. There’s time for two more broods this breeding season.”

“You’re a good man, Art,” I said, “and we enjoy your visits.”

“Thanks, Porthos. And you’ve become by far the strangest of my circle of friends. It’s been fun to get you guys set up with the social media technology to help you get your experiences and opinions out there.

“Let me know when Athos has a first draft of his blog post on the Middle East. Now there’s a topic that’s always fascinated me.”