Thursday, November 17, 2011

30 Days of Thanks: Day 17 -- Birds!!


"Hear the birds? Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm deaf and I try to imagine what it's like not to be able to hear them. It's not that bad."

--Larry David


Oh, friends, today I am most thankful for plastic shopping bags. I realize they aren't the most environmentally sound option, but without them, I may not have been here this afternoon to share this with you.


You see, I went to the store today to buy a container of cheese puff balls the size of a whirlpool tub. On the way back to the car, dozens (or at least twos) of birds flew right at me, beaks aimed directly at my face (or maybe not. I tend to exaggerate when birds are concerned).


Those of you who have known me more than 7 seconds know that this is not an option. So, I did the only thing I could at the moment. I wrapped the handle of my plastic shopping bag securely around my hand and swung that big ole container of cheese puff balls wildly over my head. I'm sure I looked completely sane doing it.

Thank you, cheese puff balls and plastic shopping bag. You saved my life . . . ish.

I'm happy to report that not a single feather touched me, and I managed not to injure the birds either. (I may not like birds, but I'm not a monster.)


I'll be even more thankful if no one managed to record the incident and put it on YouTube.


I think it might be time to tackle #21  on Ye Olde Bucket List. I'll keep you posted.




Background: When I was in middle school, my best friend gave me a sweet little newborn lovebird for my birthday. It couldn't fly yet, and I mixed up his food and fed it to him several times a day. His name was Bo. We bonded as he grew and learned to fly and eat on his own. When I would let him fly freely around the house, he would always fly to the highest point in the room. One day, I left the ceiling fan on, and when Bo flew up to perch on a fan blade, it knocked him unceremoniously down the hall. From that point on, he was the meanest bird on earth. He clearly had a bone to pick with me. If I got my hand anywhere near his cage -- even just to feed him -- he would try to peck my hand off. If I let him fly around, he would swoop down on me and bite my shirt, leaving holes. Or when I offered my finger as a perch, he would clamp down and twist my finger. It hurt. Apparently, it traumatized me. I can't handle birds so well anymore. Something about the swooping and beaks. I love the beach, but seagulls are almost more than I can handle. I'm trying to work through it.
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