Even today, I wake up screaming.
That doesn”t happen, actually. The “wake up screaming” part. But I thought it’d be a more dramatic way to start this post than “One day I was walking along and a bird attacked me.” Yes. Singular bird. Also less dramatic than the plural “birds” of the title. But just you wait.
One day I was walking along and a bird attacked me. Oh, I can hear you. “Silly JD. It’s always about you. The bird just accidentally flew into you; it didn’t attack you!”
Well, let me ask you: Is three times an accident? When it’s the same bird? And always my personal head? I don’t think so.
I used to enjoy walking along the lakefront in Evanston. I wore headphones and rocked out to my Walkman (yes, I really am that old). My happiness evaporated one sunny morning when, as I came to a particular spot on the path, a large black bird divebombed (dovebombed?) into my head.
OH, GOD! I could feel its beak on my skull! It had pulled my hair! Clearly it wanted my hair for a nest, and who could blame it? Even then my hair was already good nest material. I screamed, flapped my arms, jumped spastically. People stared in pity. NOT because they’d seen me attacked by the bird. No, they conveniently didn’t see THAT part. All they saw was this poor, crazy woman, obviously off her meds and probably full of cooties. They gave me a wide berth and moved along, even as I pleaded to them: “Didn’t you see that bird? Didn’t anyone see that bird?”
A few days later, it happened again. Same spot, same bird. Oh, I just know, that’s how. I tried outsmarting it by wearing a baseball cap, but this bird, THIS BIRD still tried to peck out my brain. THROUGH THE CAP!
On my third trip, I just ran at breakneck speed. Did you know birds can fly at breakneck speed?
I was determined to outlast the bird, but by my fourth trip, I simply couldn’t make my legs move once I got to “that spot.” I just turned around and walked home. Defeated.
Did you also know birds can laugh?
To this day, I duck when a bird flies too low or swoops out unexpectedly from a tree. I whimper softly when I have to approach a gathering of birds.
And sometimes, sometimes, I see a black bird of a certain size and shape. Looking at me. Waiting.
I have to go outside sometime.