Most kids of my generation were afraid of your typical run-of-the-mill things such as the bogeyman, the dark, and things that go bump in the night. My nightmares, however, slightly differed then that of other kids, but that's not to say that I wasn't equally afraid of things lurking in the dark. My fears included, but not in any particular order: clowns, man eating sharks (thank you Steven Spielberg), and birds. First of all, you're probably wondering why I even bothered to include birds in my category of things that sent me running for the hills. I wasn't always fearful of birds. In fact, I grew up with pet birds throughout most of my adolescent childhood. It wasn't until I saw Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds that this completely altered my view. I distinctly remember the horror of sitting through the movie and realizing that birds might not be the cute house pets we made then out to be. The image of my eyes getting gouged out by cannibalistic, flesh eating birds kept replaying in my head over and over. If it flew and had feathers I was most likely afraid of it. It was official: the master of suspense installed a fear so deep in me that I couldn't go near a single bird, caged or otherwise.
But as the years past and I became a teenager, I had conquered my fear of birds. Hell, I even developed a fascination and appreciation for Hitchcock because of that traumatic experience. I realized early on that most Hollywood horror movies were bogus, just like Santa Clause or the Tooth fairy. Yes, I still got that scary tingling sensation when I watched horror movies; however, at the same time, I knew that I was out of harms way as I sat there eating popcorn in my safe, cozy chair. On the occasion I would scream (sometimes like a little girl) or even jump out of my seat, but it was always a thrilling adrenaline rush to be scared. For me, it was the perfect relationship, and I walked away knowing I could always come back for more (sounds sadistic, I know). What I didn't realize is that sometimes movies can imitate life in one way shape or form. After all, the writers have to get material from somewhere if not from their vivid imagination. And whether I liked it or not, I was about to relive my childhood fears all over again as a full grown adult.
Fast forward to San Francisco, 2009. Even though it was fall, it felt like Indian Summer was still lingering throughout the city. The days might have been shorter, but they were still filled with blue skies and sunshine. I had just gotten off the train from my usual commute home, and I was walking home with a handful of groceries. It couldn't have been a more beautiful evening: there was a slight breeze in the air and the sun was just about to set. I was halfway home when I suddenly felt something brush up against my head. Immediately, I looked up and found a bird flying not to far above my head; he seemed frantic, and he was making a lot of noise. Before I knew it, the bird was swooping down again, but this time, I dodged his attack just as he neared my head.
To make matters worse, there were two other damn birds that showed up out of nowhere and followed suit. This time, I wasn't so lucky, and both birds managed to graze my head which caused me to drop one of my grocery bags. I suddenly felt like I was Tippi Hedren trying to evade the ravenous flock of birds, but luckily for me I wasn't wearing heals. This time there was no avoiding their attacks as all three of them made a mad dash at my head. I could hear their high pitch calls, and I was terrified that they were calling the rest of their rapacious clan of hungry, flesh eating birds to come and pick at me one by one. With one hand trying to protect my head, I grabbed my bag and sprinted down the street, and when I turned the corner I realized they were gone. I was panting and my heard was pounding, and I stood there trying to digest what had just happened. I couldn't help but wonder if my my childhood fears were coming back to bite me (or peck for that matter) in the ass.
With the traumatic bird attack behind me, the next day I decided to completely avoid the street altogether and take an alternate route to catch my train. I went about my day trying to concentrate only on my job, but my thoughts always brought me back to the bird encounter. I did, however, managed to stay focused at the gym later on that day. Thank you hot, sweaty half naked men! After the gym I headed over to Jamba Juice, and by this time my bird dilemma was almost completely forgotten.
But sometimes, life has a funny way of reminding us of things we just want to completely forget. I was just turning the corner when I felt little something tug my hair. I looked up, and sure enough there was a small black bird above my head, and he was coming in for another attack. I managed to avoid the attack, but not the humiliation. The people that were watching me seemed to get a kick out of the fact that I was being ambushed by this bird. Did they know the bird would attack anyone who passed by? Once I realized I was the main attraction, I decided not to exacerbate the situation and walk away with my head held high. I did, however, manage to take a quick glance back, and I realized the bird was already on to another victim.
For the next few days, I managed to avoid both combat zones, but in the back of my mind I felt foolish for not confronting my fears head on like a rational adult. But how can you rationalize with birds? And besides, I was encroaching into their territory. For them, I was the enemy. Then I got to thinking, what if I could compromise, or perhaps meet them halfway? After all, I was a firm believer in reciprocity, so why couldn't I negotiate something with the birds? Granted, I realize I must sound crazy, but I was willing to try anything at this point.
When Monday rolled around, I decided to try out my new tactics in hopes that I would get rid of my childhood fears once and for all. On my way home from work, I started walking down the same street I was attacked on, but this time I decided to walk on the opposite side of the street. As I began to make my way halfway through the street, I saw an older Asian woman walking on the other side, and I instantly realized that she was walking right into a trap! And in a matter of seconds, there were several birds ambushing her from the trees. The woman let out a few screams and attempted to beat them off with her walking cane. My eyes widened with horror, and I started to cross the street to help her when suddenly I realized I was also being attacked! I ducked down and I even tried to hit them, but they were still diving at my head like heat seeking missiles.
Luckily, the older woman managed to run away and escape their invasion, but as for me I was still at the mercy of the birds. I surely thought that I would be safe if I walked on the opposite side of the street, but clearly I was wrong. My plans of negotiation weren't going as well as I'd hoped. In fact, I don't think birds give a shit about reciprocity. About a block later they finally gave up and the first thing that came out of my mouth was: "Fucking birds!" So much for rationality.
With the latest bird intervention still fresh in my mind, I was wondering how to conquer my other one that was still waiting for me near Jamba Juice. Not only did I have to deal with the bird, but I also had to take into consideration the audience as well.
Like clockwork, I finished my workout at the gym and made my way to Jamba Juice, but I still wasn't sure what my plan was. Before I walked into the trap, I stood there and watched other people get attacked one by one. In between his prey, the bird sat in the tree waiting patiently for it's next victim. I stood there for a moment and watched him, and then he met my gaze. I slowly started walking, but I never took my eyes off the bird. Surprisingly, he didn't even budge and inch. There we were both intently watching each other as I put one foot in front of the other. It was a showdown like no other, and one of us was bound to give in sooner or later. At this point I didn't care about anyone else. It was just me and the bird. I kept a slow walking pace as I made my way across the courtyard, but the little shit still didn't move. What was he playing at?
With all the staring and walking, I realized that I had finally made my way across the courtyard without getting attacked. I let out a small relief of triumph. It was official: Will 1, Bird 1. We might have been tied, but at least I knew how to play his game. I took my eyes off the bird and started walking away. Just as I started hearing the victory music playing in the background I felt the SMACK right against my head! I immediately turned my head around just in time to see the bird fly away, basking in it's glory. He had played me the whole time, and I fell for his hook, line & sinker bit. I walked away defeated and embarrassed, and I could hear everyone laughing in the birds victory.
After that week, I gave up trying to negotiate, rationalize, or reciprocate anything with those damn birds. Besides, I was one and they were many. Futile as it might have been, I did manage to confront my fears head on and put my childhood fears to rest once again. The birds might have won this time, but there will be another time and another place. Just remember, they always make sequels. And this time, I would be ready.
LOVE this story!
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