The range hood over the stove collapsed off of it’s fittings tonight while my fiancée was in the kitchen. The range hood itself is one of those peculiar appliance few ever think of, but it’s omnipresent in every kitchen. You use it sparingly at best, and usually only in dire circumstances of cooking. It’s always particularly noisy; ours in particular.
The reason it had come loose of it’s screws is hard to fathom, especially after so many years. For all I know, it could have been in place since the 80’s. A brief examination showed the four screws holding it in place had been over-tightened at bad angles. It had slipped off along the tracks, and dropped a few inches. It was spared a complete plummet by the tightness of the cupboards against which it rested and a power cord slipping up and through a hole in the drywall.
After a long search for the necessary power drill to fix it, I took the opportunity to clean some of the grease and grime that had accumulated over decades in the thin space between the range and the bottom of the cupboard above. Somehow, a few pieces of nacho chips had made their way through the razor-thin crack, though I see no earthly way of how this had happened. We had a problem with infestations in the past year, so I sought out any remnant of the insect variety, and looked for various ways in which the insects could gain access to our apartment.
What I found, when shining a flashlight into the dark recesses where the ceiling fixture could not shone, I discovered something quite shocking:
It was the preserved remains of a captive robin.
At first, I had hoped he was still alive, as his presence could have explained the sudden dislodging of the range, but such was not the case. He lay on top of a trap above the fan. His foot had become trapped between the flap of the door, and he could not escape, although he must have tried frantically. It was all to no avail. Eventually, he had to lie down to die. There was no telling how long the bird had remained in that position. I am not skilled enough in these areas to hazard a guess. It could have been weeks, it could have been months. To think of how my family and I must have breathed in the dust of his feathers without knowing he was in our apartment.
Cleaning, at this point, was very necessary, but I found a lack of garbage bags and paper towels.
I went first to the Home Depot to collect some screws and a new filter for the range. I had no idea what size I needed, but after checking a similar model I made a gamble. I could always return them if they didn’t fit. Fortunately, they were absolutely the right models. Apparently these filters are to be washed or replaced once every six months. Our had never. It went immediately in the trash.
I tried to wonder how the bird became so trapped. We live on the second floor of a three storey apartment building. It would have had to have bypassed numerous channels of ducting and who knows what else to have found it’s way into our particular exhaust. Such is not an uncommon thing, however, as I remember birds becoming trapped in our chimneys as a child, and I know some birds are attracted to smoke as a way to delouse their feathers.
It felt sad to have to throw a once living creature in the garbage. To me, it deserved better. As a young boy, I would demand of a neighbour to bury a dead bird I found lying on the side of the road. It, of course, went into the trash. Such is the fate of birds.
