Lena’s Life – An attempt to remove the starlings (2)

Dearest reader,

As you heard in my last entry, there are several very irritating starlings outside my bedroom window. When one has the chance to sleep in, they squawk most hatefully. I have asked them several times to leave in the most pleasant manner, but they still remain. Last night I even prayed about it and asked God Himself to remove them, but to no avail by morning. I suppose it had something to do with creating better patience in me. But my other supposition was that God wanted me to go climbing and remove them myself. (Henry has proved useless another day, so we had to resort to other means).

So you see the daily task and adventure: to climb and remove the starlings from that window so I may sleep in tomorrow (it’s Saturday, and Aunt Cora allows it on Saturdays).

My adventure began with finding a ladder. Ladders are usually kept in sheds and other such dirty places. So I set out to the barns to find one (and hopefully avoid Henry, as I’d fully made up my mind to deal with the starlings myself).

A ladder was successfully acquired (this was perhaps the only successful part). I managed to carry it across the lumpy sheep field to the house and around to my window. It was difficult enough getting it to stand up straight, let alone stay standing up straight. But after some thought and problem solving I had righted the thing. Now all I had to do was climb it, find the nest, remove the nest, re-home the nest, and put the ladder away. My problems would be solved in a jiffy I thought.

Climbing was rather wobbly, which I likely should have thought was because of where I’d put the legs of the ladder. But when I set my mind to things, I often forget about such practicalities, and so I simply steadied myself on the study Cotswold stone outer of our cottage.

At last the window was at my chin, and soon enough I was on the top step of the ladder, gripping onto the window frame with all my might.

“There it is!” I cried, as the bird’s nest came into sight. My eyes gleamed at the twiggy mess as I planned my next move.

It was at this moment when a particularly irritating voice interrupted my thoughts and focus.

“Lena Digby. What on earth are you doing?” it asked. I knew at once of course that it was Henry and did not turn around.

“I am doing what you have refused to do the past two weeks.” I told him a little spitefully. He did not say anything for a moment, and I carried on with my attempts of reaching the nest. I did have the slight inclination that if I did not get down from the ladder soon my miraculous balance might end.

“Well, let me steady this for you. It’s waving about like a flag.” Henry then said, taking hold of the ladder.

Down I came, right from the top of the ladder. Thankfully Henry was of some use, and partially stopped my fall. After quite the scream, which I instantly regretted for Henry hearing it, there appeared in my ankle the most horrid pain which I knew was going to be a nuisance.

“Oh you fool!” I cried, turning my eyes on Henry at last from where I lay on the grass. “Now get me inside to Aunt Cora at once.” You see, I knew that if he did not deliver me to that woman hastily, I would end up crying on the lawn. He picked me up without a word and carried me inside to the sitting room. How awful, to have to have such a thing happen to oneself!

Aunt Cora was sitting by the window writing a letter, and saw us as Henry trod loudly through the door.

“Oh my dear!” she cried in her most comforting way, “Come Henry, lay her down here at once – what did you do?” I thankfully took her arms in the place of Henry’s and buried my face in her dress. Henry was then told to leave and I was saved.

After relating my misfortunes to Aunt Cora, and receiving a cold cloth to my ankle, all seemed settled again. All but the raging pain in my ankle.

“You’ll have to stay away from the trees and ladders for a little while Birdy.” my aunt told me, sitting down and letting me lay my head in her lap again. I knew she was right, and was most made at Henry for the entire ordeal.

Although Aunt Cora says it was not all his fault. I am certain I would not have lost my balance, had he not taken that ladder as he did. The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Aunt Cora read William Wordsworth and having my cold cloth replaced. There was a ridiculous number of pillows under my foot, and all because of that awful boy Henry.

Now I am laying in bed, about to go to sleep. I still have my prayers to say, and to think that a boy called Henry could stop one from kneeling down to pray is something quite horrid. I do suppose that God doesn’t care much if we kneel or not, but I always like to for romantic effect. Not tonight, alas. Tonight I must lay here and try to be forgiving of certain people.

I will return to entertain you with more uplifting accounts soon I hope. Oh, how dreadful it will be if I cannot climb trees for long!

Yours Truly,

Lena Digby