The Ornithologist’s Morning

Author’s note: Language, language!  There’s some foul (heh, fowl) language in this one.
The bird fluttered around the upper corners of my ceiling, cursing loudly enough to startle me awake. “Let me out of this place, you son of a bitch! What the hell? Why can’t I go through these openings to outside?”
Although I was initially jolted awake by the unfamiliar presence in my room, my mood immediately soured as I realized what had happened. “Ugh, they’re called windows,” I groaned. “Look, you have to go through the open one – not that one, the one without the glass!”
The bird ignored my attempts at providing aid. “Fuck you, holmes, let me out!” it cheeped angrily. Eventually realizing that beating itself against the glass panes was getting it nowhere, it alighted on top of my bookcase, glaring down at me with its beady, black eyes.
Climbing out of bed, I tried to figure out what to do. Unfortunately, my bedroom windows didn’t open very far, so they weren’t an easy exit to spot. I wondered if I could catch the bird, carry it outside. I returned its gaze as I sized up the situation.
The bird was a small starling, clearly a male, as was indicated by the brightly colored chest. My ornithology classes had taught me to identify birds and to understand most of their speech, neither skill being especially worthwhile. The bird glared down at me, as though it could read my thoughts. “Man, I got bitches to get all up on out there,” it told me arrogantly. “You can’t be holding me in here!”
I opened my bedroom door a crack, glancing down the hall. I figured that perhaps I could scare the bird out into the hallway and through to the kitchen, where the back door would provide easy exit into the house’s backyard. “Look, I’ll be right back,” I said, doing my best to slip out through the cracked bedroom door so I could close off any other possible exits from the hallway. “Just gimme a sec.”
“Where you going, big and ugly?” squawked the bird after me as I left. “Hey! Don’t leave me alone in this place! I’ll make this place my new nest, shit on everything you own! You know I ain’t got no bladder control!”
In the hallway, I quickly closed the other doors, and then threw my bedroom door wide. The starling looked suspicious, but it flew out into the hall obligingly. “This the exit? At least I’m out of that shithole,” it told me as it zoomed past. I ignored the dig at my decorating skills, instead closing the bedroom door to prevent backtracking.
The bird swooped around in circles in the hallway. “The fuck, holmes? This place is even worse! Where’s the feeder at? Where’s the bitches?”
I waved my arms at the bird, trying to coax it towards the kitchen and the back door. “Go that way!” I ordered.
“Yeah, or what? Bitch?”
I paused, crossing my arms at the unwelcome intruder. “I’m sure I’ve got a tennis racket around here somewhere,” I threatened.
“Whoa there, no need for threats,” the bird cheeped hastily, finally swooping into the kitchen. “No need, man, I give the hawks respect.” I followed it in, closing the hallway door behind me and throwing open the back door.
Thankfully, it only took the starling about five minutes to find the open back entrance and to go diving out into my back yard. “Thanks for nothing, punk-ass!” it screamed over its wing as it soared into the large oak tree behind my house. “Can’t hold me, bitch! I own you! This is my territory, stay the fuck out!” It winged its way around my bird feeder triumphantly.
A large grey squirrel stuck its head out of the oak tree. “Hey, keep yer damn mitts off that shit!” it yelled at the bird. “That’s my feeder now, ya heer? S’mine!”
As I groaned once more and turned to go back inside, a large raven, sitting on the back fence, caught my eye. “Buncha assholes, huh?” it cawed sympathetically.
I nodded, rolling my eyes. The raven shuffled a little closer, looking slightly hopeful. “Got any crusts lying around?” it asked. “I’ll do the whole ‘quoth the raven’ thing if you’ve got any old pizza. Nevermore and all that.”
“Not today,” I replied. “Finished off leftovers last night.”
The raven shrugged, unconcerned. “It’s cool, it’s cool.” It eyed the still-arguing squirrel and starling resignedly. “I’ll go try the neighbors,” it announced, taking wing.
I firmly shut the door as I headed back inside. I should have majored in history, I thought to myself as I searched for coffee grounds.   
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