Maine is a laconic individual even when faced with another person, much less a bird. He's not going to speak to it; he doesn't think it would understand, and it would be a waste of words. (As though there's some finite amount he can use.)

What the bird does get to see is a far more expressive face than Maine shows most. The usual stoicism he displays for strangers is absent, replaced by something torn between confusion and amusement.

It's a determined bird, he'll give it that.

With a little sigh, Maine pushes himself to his feet, abandoning his book as he walks to a window and opens it. Then he turns back, intending to circle around and usher the bird towards the open window.