The other day, a sparrow flew into our house. It snuck in through an open door while my mom was outside removing snow, water and ice from the patio.
You have to give the little guy some credit; he was persistent. We tried luring him back outdoors with a flimsy broom, but he kept his ground. He flew from the bookcase to the couch and up into the kitchen light fixture.
After about five minutes of chasing him around, we finally got the pesky bird to fly back where he belongs: outside. Life, for all involved, returned to normal.
Indeed, it was odd to see a part of nature temporarily domesticated. Perhaps our resident sparrow had grown weary of the cold and rainy late December night. Or maybe he simply wanted to see what a human habitat looks like.
Something tells me, though, that while fluttering around the confines of our home, this poor bird never felt so trapped.