The Birds

I really, really have better things to be doing right now than blogging (namely: sleeping), but I absolutely must share with you the this-cannot-be-happening moment I just had the pleasure of experiencing.
I have been awake for over 17 hours now on only 5 hours of sleep.  I have spent 14 1/2 hours of that time working and approximately 2 of it commuting.  Not my favorite way to spend a day.  So, I FINALLY get home, ready to flop into my little couch-cushion bed and SLEEP at long last, when, as I am climbing the stairs to my attic room, I hear the sound of wings beating against the window.  The inside of the window.  My first thought is that it's my own bird, Jacqueline, but that thought is quickly disproved as I continue to hear the struggles of this unknown but undoubtedly larger-than-a-parakeet winged creature.  For some reason I decide to climb the stairs in the dark, so I actually have to walk past the part of the hall where the noise is coming from before reaching the light switch.  And as soon as those lights came on, the thing flew up at me like a bat out of hell, causing me to screech in a most un-lady-like fashion and then laugh hysterically from a combination of sleep deprivation, nerves, and a vague recognition of the hilarity of the situation.  After flapping around a bit more, while I continued to alternate between screeching and laughing at myself, the bird finally landed on the floor in the hallway.
It was a pigeon, mostly a dark charcoal grey.  She had flown in the slightly open hall window and had been unsuccessful in finding her way out again, like a lobster in a trap.  I could tell she'd been trying all day, too; she was pretty discombobulated, tired, and scared.  Luckily, I am quite skilled and experienced at catching and relocating birds, even wild ones, so once I composed myself I made quick work of tossing a piece of fabric over her, picking her up, and releasing her out the window.  She neither struggled nor made the smallest noise of protest during the entire process.
And of course, when I opened the door to my room, the first thing I saw was my own bird, sitting peaceably on the topmost perch of her cage, leaning against the bars and cocking her head with a most innocent air.  She can't fool me, though; I know she had something to do with this.  I'm just not sure what yet... the scheming little twit.