A few years ago I was living with two other girls in a lovely, albeit slightly run down little two storey townhouse in Northcote (Melbourne). We had a narrow L bend backyard, a garage and a carport. The garage had been converted into the multi-purpose room although its main multi-purpose was for smoking, drinking and parties. The carport was intended for a car. However, as it goes in a share house, the carport soon became our storage area for unwanted junk. As a result it took sometime before we noticed the strange happenings in said carport.

It started when the housemate (I shall call her Anna) who was occupying the room directly above the carport commented on hearing strange noises and voices. This claim was dismissed as she was from Sydney and they can get paranoid there. A bit later a random box of books turned up outside the carport and my other housemate (I shall call her Lucy) excited by her windfall, claimed them as her own. On a day off from work, Anna observed a man riding a bike past our living room window and down the dead-end alleyway at the back of our house. The man rode in wearing casual clothes and rode out later wearing business clothes. It seemed that the strange happenings in the carport could no longer be ignored and Anna’s paranoia was vindicated.

On a bright sunny day, Lucy and I had a mutual day off and decided it was time to investigate the carport. Armed with a broom and a mop we cautiously lifted up the roller door on the garage and peered around. The alleyway was empty of human life and feeling braver, we ventured into the shade of the carport. At first we could only see what looked like our junk but after careful searching (read scrambling over boxes) we noticed that there were a lot of unfamiliar things stacked inconspicuously behind an old, defunct fridge. One of the items included a camping mattress. It seemed we had an unwanted lodger.

While fossicking through some of the boxes we couldn’t identify, I noticed a chirping sound seeming to come from the new ‘lodger’s’ junk. Concerned, I mentioned it to Lucy who argued that it was most likely coming from outside. It was then that I noticed a bright yellow bucket sitting on top of the fridge with an encyclopaedia placed securely over the top. Carefully I brought the bucket down and upon removing the encyclopaedia saw a glimpse of a baby pigeon before it leapt up out of the bucket and snuggled into my neck, under my hair.

Slightly alarmed, I turned to Lucy and announced:

‘There is a pigeon in my hair!’

While looking appropriately surprised she declared (quite redundantly) that was where the chirping probably came from. Carefully extracting the nestling bird I placed it back into the bucket and covered it once more with the encyclopaedia.

Deciding that this was a good time for a smoke break and debrief we sat on the pavement and came to the conclusion that a) we had a homeless lodger living in our carport b) the lodger had a pet and c) that something would have to be done. Our major concern was that, with a household of three girls, we weren’t entirely convinced that we wanted this new tenant and his bird in a bucket.

The suggestion to call the police was raised. To me calling the police on this poor homeless man with only a pigeon for comfort seemed mean. Images (encouraged perhaps by my choice of movie and news consumption) of the police dragging the man kicking and screaming and destroying his belongings came to mind. We decided on a cautionary anonymous call to the police to find out what the procedure was and ascertained that without him there, not much. If they could catch him there they could charge him for trespass.

Being a minimum wage earner with pretentions to socialist ideals, I decided that maybe if I gave him some other options he would just disappear. So, phonebook in hand, I looked up the numbers for shelters in the area and then politely requested (through a note stuck to the fridge in the carport) that he vacate to one of these places as soon as possible.

The lodger remained. Concerned for the bird now, we started to add grass and bits of bread to its little yellow bucket and discussed at length with each other and anyone else who would listen, what to do about this situation. We had also noticed him coming and going around Northcote and even once at a street festival after-party and wondered if he was aware that we were the legal tenants of the carport he was occupying.

This amusing anecdote quickly turned sour. The neighbours, aware of the situation, told us that some knickers had gone missing from their washing line. The neighbour said she had noticed him following her to the supermarket. Lucy then observed him hanging around the hospital where she worked some distance away. The ‘harmless lodger’ didn’t seem as innocuous as he had first appeared. The neighbours put up official looking letters in the carport telling the man to vacate or the police would be called.

He did not vacate and in fact moved in another bird. Enough was enough. We gathered together and moved all his belonging out onto the street. He moved them back in again. Lucy finally decided that it was time for a more direct approach and confronted him face to face. She told him he had to leave or we would turf his belongings and then quickly retreated inside again.

After months of negotiation, our ‘lodger’ finally moved out. We still see him around occasionally on his bike. Sans pigeon.

Vivien Durant is a Master Of Global Communications student at La Trobe University and is one of upstart’s staff writers. You can follow her on Twitter: @VivienDurant