Birds. They Scare Me.

Thirty years ago, I babysat a boy named Skippy Wonder. (Pause. Yes. That was his name.) One afternoon, while he napped and I watched Days of Our Lives, I felt a picking at the leg of my Levi 501s. (Pause. Yes. They were in. And, the tighter the better.)

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I looked down and saw the Wonder’s parakeet. Terrified, I called my cousins who worked in a pet shop. (Pause. Yes. In 1985, I didn’t know pet stores were bad.)

Barb told me, “Get a towel, toss it over him, and put him back in the cage.”

I found a towel in the bathroom. Then, I looked at bird.

“Please.  Please.  Please.  Just go back into the cage.”

Then, I tossed the towel over the yellow feathered fuzzball, and, carefully placed the towel next the cage and said a silent prayer. Please get back into the cage.

I watched the movie, High Anxiety, that spoofed Alfred Hitchcock’s films. I never saw The Birds. So, I was afraid birds, including that parakeet, would poop on me.

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Most of my life has been spent in the mountains. Too often birds hit the windows, break their necks and die. I have not grown accustomed to picking up dead birds and putting their light bodies in the garbage.

Tonight was a lovely evening. There was a delightful cloud cover that cooled off the neighborhood. Doug, Jodi, Rhille and I sipped wine in the side yard surrounded by dogs and flowers.

The scintillating conversation turned from things like, “I hope my dog is a lesbian” to “I can see you with a lesbian midget.” (Pause. Yes. Only one glass of wine was consumed. And, we discussed the politically correct terms.)

 

Everything was going so well until we said “goodnight” and I went upstairs. Looking out onto the deck off my bedroom, I shrieked and cursed.

There was a dead magpie on the deck.

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For a tenth of a second, I thought, “If I was married, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

Then, I strode down the stairs, collected two full-sized garbage bags, walked back up and out to scoop up the bird. In the process, poop leaked onto my hand.

After discarding the bird, crossing myself and saying a prayer near the garbage can, I cleaned up the mess he left. There was blood.  Ick.

Birds scare me.

 

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About hookershorde

I am a school teacher, animal advocate and rescuer, yogi, and happy!
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