Birds and I have a love-hate relationship. This is about the hate part of my relationship with birds.
-When I was about four, I was feeding ducks with my parents and grandparents at a stream nearby to our house. A duck bit me.
-When I was about eight, I was walking in the park with my mom and a bird pooped on my shoulder. I was wearing a tank top, so this was poop-on-skin.
-When I was about 11, we were walking around Philadelphia on vacation. We approached a group of pigeons on the sidewalk and all but one flew off. We walked past the pigeon. The pigeon noticed its friends were gone. It took off. It flew into the back of my head. Beak to scalp. Ouch! This brought on my fear of low-flying birds.
-When I was about 12 we were in Toronto. My mom and I were waiting for my dad, and I was amusing myself by squawking back to a nearby seagull. After awhile the seagull took off, circled around above us and pooped on the woman sitting about twenty feet from us. I am convinced that poop was meant for me.
-When I was around 16 we were on a family vacation to Disneyworld. At the Magic Kingdom there were these large birds with very long bills that were scrounging around for food. They were low-flyers, always ready to swoop down the minute you dropped so much as a Cheerio on the pavement. I was constantly ducking to avoid them due to my aforementioned fear of low flying birds. My younger cousins picked up on this and started to try to startle me and pretend to hit my head. No direct bird interactions, but this was still pretty traumatizing.
-When B and I were taking dancing lessons in preparation for our wedding, we decided to take a walk to the canal that was nearby to our lesson location. We got too close to some goslings, and several Canada Geese chased us, hissing all the way. I have never ran so fast in my life.
-I posted a few weeks ago about the hissing goose that we almost stepped on as it hid in its nest by the water.
-We have several birds that seem to want to live in our front landscaping. They poop all over our front stoop.
Which brings me to last night at dinner. Our table is in front of the kitchen window. B and I sit on either side of the window and S (Little Man) sits facing the window. Out of the corner of my eye I see a bird flying straight at me. I look as a mourning dove is flapping its wings, about to land on the window sill, but I see a bird flying at my face with nothing between me and the bird. I scream. A blood curdling scream. In the middle of dinner.
B saw what was happening so he was hardly phased, being used to my jumpiness and fear of birds. He does mock me though, for not realizing I was perfectly fine behind the window. The bird was startled and flew away. S, however, just froze. I could do nothing to comfort him as I was still shaking and laughing and crying from the experience. He was fine though. B told him everything was okay and that Mommy was just afraid of birds. He didn’t cry and after about a minute he went back to eating.
I am pretty sure that once S realizes that his mommy is easily startled that he is going to go out of his way to scare me. I can’t say that I blame him, as I would probably do the same thing, but I am not looking forward to it!