230. Banging in the morning (2)

Clank. Clank. Clank.

What was that?

I open my eyes. 

Clank.

I realise the problem is back. I check the time. The exact same time as the previous day. Am I going to be woken up at the crack of dawn every single day of my holiday? By some creature that is probably revelling in this, telling me hey do you think you can roll up here at anytime after leaving us alone for so long? And claim the place as yours? It is  too early for me. I need comfort, I need help. I try my usual helpline.

‘It’ll just be some animal in the attic.’ 

My husband says things are busy at work and he is certain I will have a good time. He does not see the problem; he’s always been an early riser. I am not. After thinking I could record the thing and send it to him I decide to be reasonable - and strong - and independent - I need to figure out what this is and sort it out by myself.

‘Baby?’

I ignore the voice telling me I should be ashamed to wake my youngest child at 6 AM, during the holidays, just because there is a strange noise in the house. 

It’s ok. I can take it, being the bad mum. If it means getting rid of this very annoying alarm clock.

‘Baby?’ I say a little louder.

I decide she needs to come to the rescue. Maths-Head would be excellent in this kind of crisis. Not Miss Organiser though, she would run away screaming, then hide in the car and ask Google for help. As for my son he’d keep on snoring, undisturbed by such inconsequential matters. Baby? Let’s find out.

‘BABY!’

I hear a sound which lets me know she is awake.

‘It’s that noise again! What is it? What do we do?’

Baby gets up, I can hear her rummaging around in her room.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m using modern technology.’

I did worry that Baby was spending so much time with Miss Organiser lately, the other two being away.

More rummaging. Then I see her walk past my bedroom door. She is dragging cables and a chair. She puts the phone on the chair, sorts the many extension leads and adapters and goes back to bed!!!!

‘It’s filming.’ She says.

…

I do not know what to say to that. There is an undeniable desire to help with the situation. It’s just that one has to be patient. I can’t even tell her to get off her phone; the phone is sitting on the chair doing the surveillance job.

…

Silence in the house. Baby must have gone back to sleep. There is a faint rustling in the woods, cow bells in the distance. There is no wind and the sky is that morning mix of pale blue and pink. An other beautiful day on the way.

…

Our creature must be camera shy.

…

I decide to leave it all to Baby and to go and walk our lazy dog. I get up. I take care not to trip over the cables on the landing. This is when I think I see something from the corner of my eye. A flash of something. Was it the branches moving with the wind and letting a flash of sunlight into the room?

But there is no wind.

Clank. 

I startle. And turn to the window. Nothing. I put my foot on the first step, reminding myself that the job is in Baby and her technology’s hands.

Clank.

This is ridiculous. Is this thing making fun of me or what?

I sit on the landing and decide I will not move until this thing shows up.

An other flash. A flapping sound and a loud clank against the window pane. I see it! A bird. It is a bird! And it is not even hiding, not scared as he sits there in the corner of the window sill and bangs on the glass. A dark grey bird, quite plain looking except for the striking neon-blue feathers at the tip of its wings.