A blackbird flew into the kitchen. It trapped itself between a big picture window and the jars on the windowsill. It flapped up a few inches and then collapsed down again. I moved the jars to give it space. The stupid thing still kept trying to get through the glass. It pooped on the windowsill - and then in its fear and flappping it flicked bits of it all over the kitchen. I put on thick rubber gloves and picked up the bird and took it outside. It fought against me - I could feel that its muscles were really strong as it tried to get out of my hands, and bits of feathers scattered around the yard when I let it go.