There is more to the story, of course. There is a very tall ladder involved, a climb to the second floor of the vacant house next door, some damage to a window, and possibly, an opening into the house through which other birds may now gain access, along with a squirrel or two. Maybe some rain. Probably nothing more troublesome than that.
But I think it's fair to sum it up by saying two desperately trapped baby birds were rescued and a frantic mother bird can now go back to reading the Book Review on the back deck, or whatever the bird equivalent is of that. That is the take-away here.
The women in our family have a history of bird rescue, against long odds, and even when ridiculous efforts must be made and 40-foot ladders moved to the side of other people's houses. If you don't remember, go back and re-read the inspiring story of Tweety and the Fourth Graders.
Mr. K. is out of town during the rescue, so naturally his first concern is for my safety. "Did anyone see you vandalize the neighbor's house?" he asks. Then he wants to know what I am wearing.
When he gets home he expresses his irritation at the fact that I was motivated enough to move a 40-foot ladder to the side of the neighbor's house but not motivated enough to move it back. Which is not the same thing as expressing his gratitude on behalf of the planet, or at least the birds. But it's close enough for me.