I have a devastatingly ridiculous fear of birds-of-flight. I don't know where the fear came from and I don't know whether or not there will be a day when the fear ends, but I know that it is real and it is nutty. Something about the feathers and the beady little eyes. I owned a pair of parakeets as a small child, so the irrational aversion had to have developed sometime between age 5 and 18. I have a very distinct memory of vacuuming a woman's house (I cleaned houses when I was a college student), suddenly realizing her parakeet had landed on my shoulder, and absolutely losing my cool. I quit cleaning that house just weeks later. I have dreams occasionally that birds are pecking at my eyes. I am completely convinced that, left alone in a room with a blackbird, it would try to eat me. I'm not so afraid that I won't go outdoors knowing that birds are present in the general area. I am afraid enough that I won't approach a domesticated bird or feel comfortable with a bird of any kind touching me. Feathered friends? Give me a break. More like feathered fiends.
I went to the zoo today with my sister, our friend Kea, and Kea's two sons. It was a nearly perfect day.
I say nearly because the zoo is big enough to be an enjoyable day-trip but too small to "accidentally" avoid any one section of animals. Which means that I had to either face the birds or look like a terrible excuse for a grown woman.
The miniature aviary snuck up on me. One moment I was admiring the wallabies and the next moment, I was walking into an enclosed area with dozens of brightly-colored birds perched in trees, eating nectar from children's cups, and generally flying about. I could have easily hurried my way through the enclosure and out the exit on the other side, but I decided to stay with the rest of the crew. My choice was one more of obligation to the Yes than of actually wanting to face my fear, but in any case, I took a deep breath and walked through the aviary. Why I was convinced that one of those gorgeous animals was going to swoop down, peck my eye out, and then claw the rest of my face off I have no idea. I could feel my trepidation continue to build throughout my extremities and into my head. I reminded myself that no bird was actually pre-programmed to take me out, and that I should just enjoy the beauty of the nature surrounding me. It was about the time that I regained normal breathing that Kea snuck up on me with a shriek and landed both hands on my shoulders, shaking them. I hated her for about two seconds, then laughed and high-tailed it out of the enclosure.
An hour later, I was able to walk through the larger aviary with just as much fear but twice as much confidence. If I can conquer several dozen birds flying around my head, certainly I could handle just one dozen behind glass windows!
I lived to tell the tale, so obviously no bird-related deaths occurred today. At least not in my zoo group. I think I owe myself a glass of wine and a self-cheer for "yes! I survived the birds!"
I went to the zoo today with my sister, our friend Kea, and Kea's two sons. It was a nearly perfect day.
I say nearly because the zoo is big enough to be an enjoyable day-trip but too small to "accidentally" avoid any one section of animals. Which means that I had to either face the birds or look like a terrible excuse for a grown woman.
The miniature aviary snuck up on me. One moment I was admiring the wallabies and the next moment, I was walking into an enclosed area with dozens of brightly-colored birds perched in trees, eating nectar from children's cups, and generally flying about. I could have easily hurried my way through the enclosure and out the exit on the other side, but I decided to stay with the rest of the crew. My choice was one more of obligation to the Yes than of actually wanting to face my fear, but in any case, I took a deep breath and walked through the aviary. Why I was convinced that one of those gorgeous animals was going to swoop down, peck my eye out, and then claw the rest of my face off I have no idea. I could feel my trepidation continue to build throughout my extremities and into my head. I reminded myself that no bird was actually pre-programmed to take me out, and that I should just enjoy the beauty of the nature surrounding me. It was about the time that I regained normal breathing that Kea snuck up on me with a shriek and landed both hands on my shoulders, shaking them. I hated her for about two seconds, then laughed and high-tailed it out of the enclosure.
An hour later, I was able to walk through the larger aviary with just as much fear but twice as much confidence. If I can conquer several dozen birds flying around my head, certainly I could handle just one dozen behind glass windows!
I lived to tell the tale, so obviously no bird-related deaths occurred today. At least not in my zoo group. I think I owe myself a glass of wine and a self-cheer for "yes! I survived the birds!"
No comments:
Post a Comment