Tweeter

No. Not the "Social Network"

So, first of all, I seriously need to stop trying to open my apartment using my car clicker. It's really getting embarrassing. 

Second, I will briefly mention "Keys Guy". It was meant to be a post, but never truly blossomed. So here's the short version of that icky encounter.

So, Tuesdays are Hellish to say the least. That particular Tuesday, I was scheduled to work on top of everything else that Tuesdays entail for me which is getting up at 5:00 am, leaving the house by 6:30, being in Jackson around 7:00, staying there and teaching until 2:00. From there, I go straight to class, and after class, I went to work until 9:30. Yeah. Awesome.

So not only was that a fantastically long day, but when I arrived at work, I locked my keys in my car. Super. So, I went inside, informed Amanda (my sales lead) and proceeded to hunt down Wavis, the Mall Cop. He hooked me up with the guy that normally helps stupid mall-goers who lock their keys in their cars. Wavis told him I'd be off work around 9:00, so he should show up around then. So I went through my shift, about as cranky as can be - which, according to Amanda, is still fun - until Wavis showed up at the door saying the Keys Guy was there. I rushed outside to meet the guy and realized that I had no way to pay him - I never carry cash and my check book was at home. So unless he could slide my card through his buttcrack and get money off of it, he was pretty much SOL in the payment department. I told him of my predicament, and instead of telling me how I should pay him, he went on and on about how familiar I looked. I told him that it had been two years since I last locked my keys in my car and have never called someone from Jackson to open it, but he insisted that it was him. I kept pushing the subject back to squaring the bill until he said, "Well, maybe I'll swing by next time you work... Or I can just take you out to lunch or something." 

Seriously?! Ugh.... Not only is that gross, as the dude was my dad's age and had a mustache and a tow-truck, but it would have in no way made us even. So, I just left and never heard from him again. Way to go Emily for basically stealing services. But hey, I'd say that hitting on me made us even.

So back to the Tweeter.

So I pulled up to my apartment today to see a little bird sitting on the steps to my building. I went ahead and assumed he would have flown away by the time I drove right up to him, parked my car and got out, but you know what they say about those who assume....

So it was still sitting there when I walked up to it, set my bags down, sat down on the step next to it, took some pictures of it, and reached out my hand and petted it.

 I know what you're thinking... "BIRD FLU"... but seriously, that wasn't even real. And I highly doubt I could get it from such a cute little thing.
So, for those of you who know me well, you know that anything with four or fewer legs is a friend of mine, so I could not just leave it there and go on about my day. No.
I sat there discussing what it was exactly that "Tweeter" was doing out on my stoop and why it wasn't flying the heck away from big, scary me. So while we were discussing this, I continued to pet Tweeter, hoping that it'd get up and fly away, that I would eventually scare the pants off of it enough to make it fly. But that wouldn't make for much of a story, now would it?
So instead, I thought, "Well, maybe if I try to pick it up, it will freak out and fly off". So that is exactly what I did. But instead of flying away, this happened:

This was about the time I told Tweeter that we were going to have to call the one person in the world who would know what to do. Gramma Buettner. For as long as I can remember, she has known everything about birds and has attempted to teach me the same. So I called Gram, and held Tweeter.

With her infinite wisdom, Gram gave me the advice I needed, "Offer it refreshment - that makes everyone feel better". So, Tweeter and I had a quick little photo shoot before I headed off for refreshment.

Then, I set Tweeter on the hood of my Jeep and ran upstairs to grab a cap-full of water and the heel of my bread loaf - nobody likes that part anyway - and took them back down the the little bird who was still hanging out on my Jeep. I tore the bread in half to encourage eating and set both the bread and the water down in front of him and continued my incessant photographing.

After that, I told Tweeter to get better and fly off, and went to go and get some lunch for myself. When I looked down from the window, it was still there, so I told it that it needed to leave before I had to go tutor kids at Cape Middle. Gram said that a cat may get it if it was within reach - which I was sure to let Tweeter know... I think that's how it got the gumption to leave, because when I came down for tutoring, some of the bread was eaten, the water had crumbs in it, and Tweeter was gone.

Gram asked me to email her some pictures to figure out what it was, and she called me back to inform me that she believed it to be a female Tennessee Warbler. So evidently, she's supposed to be migrating south, and may have gotten separated from her crowd and got lost. My dad thinks she ran into my building. I'd rather stick with Gram's idea.

As it turns out, I get my Snow White-ish tendencies from my Gram. She informed me today that she recently found a dead hummingbird (her favorite) on her driveway. Instead of tossing it in the woods like most cold, dis-compassionate human beings, she wrapped it in a Kleenex and buried it in her flower garden. So woodland creatures like me by nature. Gram says that the Warbler knew where to go to get help - and she came to me!

I swear. The weirdest things always happen to me.

Love to the readers!!