When I got home and started unloading the groceries, there was something fluttering around in the garage. Just as I slammed the hatch closed, I realized that the bird had perched in the shadow of the hatch. There was a sort of a strangled squeak, and when I popped the door back open, a small gray bird fell out, quite dead. It's surprisingly hard to recognize a bird when it's lying dead instead of being a bird, but I'm pretty sure it was a phoebe. My bridge flycatcher was probably taking shelter in the garage from the unexpected cold.