The Birds

It’s not that weird to be afraid of birds. Randy from My Name is Earl is afraid of birds. So is Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. And probably plenty of other non-fictional people, too. Ornithophobia is defined as “a type of specific phobia, an abnormal, irrational fear of birds.”

Does this seem like an irrational thing to be scared of?

Anyway, my fear is totally rational. My story begins in a similar fashion to that of Green from Pokémon Adventures. As a child, Green was kidnapped by a bird. When I was twelve, I was hunted by an African Hawk-Eagle.

http://www.wildlife-pictures-online.com/image-files/hawk-eagle_lc-3501.jpg

I lived in Tanzania at the time, and was spending the weekend at our family’s beach house in a little village called Kimbiji. This was, and is, my favourite place in the entire world. Our house was open plan, and sat on a cliff overlooking a private beach. While I still miss the place desperately, my biggest consolation is knowing that I really did appreciate what we had. So much so that I would spend long intervals standing by the cliff’s edge just taking in the view.

So one day, while all the grown-ups were lounging in the shade, I went about my ostentatious little routine, probably imagining I was in a movie or something. There I stood, hands on my hips, breathing in the sea air and smiling meaningfully to myself, when I heard a screech up above. Before I had time to look up, something swished by my head, and I felt talons scratching at my scalp, tugging at my hair.

I screamed and stupidly thumped at the wings beating beside my ears, but ultimately it was my dad’s shouts of “Go ’way! GO ’WAY!” that scared the horrible thing off. My dad is a bear-like Cork man, so I imagine the bird thought that I was someone else’s dinner, and this was all just a big misunderstanding. After that, I sought comfort with my big sister, who in a bizarre role reversal has actually suppressed this memory.

Couple this terrifying experience with my mother’s Hitchcock-inspired conviction that birds will, in fact, take over the world and you’ve got a perfectly rational fear of birds. Even after my near-death experience (melodramatic? Moi?), my phobia didn’t really manifest itself for a couple of years. And even when it did, it was pigeons rather than hawks that I found myself edging around in the street. Probably because you don’t get many African Hawk-Eagles on the streets of Dublin.

While my phobia is now borderline crippling, I can understand why it might be amusing to see a grown woman having to hold the hands of her boyfriend and friend as they lead her through park filled with pigeons. They are my personal pigeon-wranglers and I am not embarrassed. Well, not mortified anyway.

I tend to get some incredulous looks when people find out about my phobia. In these cases, I point out the following:

1. Pigeons are dirty. And most of them have those terrifying twisted claw-stumps.
2. They can turn their heads 360 degrees, which, if The Exorcist has taught us anything, is the calling card of Satan.
3. They have no sense of personal space and nobody like to be bitch-slapped by a pigeon wing.
4. They spread disease. They're known as flying rats for a reason.

In spite of all this, I do also appreciate that birds can be beautiful. Like this:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnqAWm6pApVRrV1f6foTp_aufxEB7VMKDn4xYViEvPmvmR-3TGV65Kny2jj7AdwwqR8zaYjLBRB9Imgpr4rrtXh19lNeuTAG8CKaOq1HXJxwoKx79KzsURGBAZqG15PrpVs3A2dqr84Ml/s1600/5.jpg  

But they can also be disgusting. Like this:

I drew that masterpiece by the way. Enjoy!

"Irish"

I recently read an article on Cracked about offensive Irish stereotypes. And by recently, I mean two months ago; it was a Paddy’s day piece. The author, Luke McKinney, expressed mild irritation at the ways St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated outside of our little Isle. Occasionally, I read or watch something that really sticks with me, and this was one of those cases. After reading McKinney’s piece, the topic of National identity seemed to pop up everywhere! Call me slow, but it’s only really clarified with me of late how widely held some of these stereotypes are. 

After taking a college module on the Irish film industry, I’ve begun to think of this issue as “The Quiet Man Dilemma”. For those of you not familiar with The Quiet Man, it was one of the first films that portrayed any sort of representation of Ireland, and being a Hollywood film, it enjoyed a lot of exposure so its depiction of us really stuck. The film presented Ireland as a whimsical, magical land whose natives were in awe of modernity, but had no real need for it. And sure, this was sixty years ago, but the sickener is; this patronizing representation is still bloody dominant today!

Much as I love Amy Adams (she’s adorable), Leap Year has to be one of the most offensive movies I’ve ever half-watched. Adams plays Anna, a modern American woman who travels to Ireland to propose to her boyfriend, because (sigh) “Ancient Irish folklore” dictates that if you propose to a man on February 29^th, he must accept. Ireland is more or less portrayed as one long, winding country road, and of course, a dingy little pub. Oh, and everyone wears these hats:

Then there’s the less recent absurdity of Heroes Season 2. The first episode closes in Cork, where Milo Ventimiglia is terrorized by several burly American men, who I genuinely didn’t realise were supposed to be Irish until one of them uttered the word “boyo”. I’m pretty sure I actually facepalmed at this point.

Most recently, Glee introduced the Irish exchange student Rory Flanagan. In the first episode alone, he masquerades as a leprechaun, gushes over the Land of the Free, and sings “It’s Not Easy Being Green”. He also wears green in every single scene. In fact the first outfit we see him in is a green bowler hat, suspenders (no, not the sexy kind), and a green shirt. He’s pretty obviously dressed up to look like a leprechaun.

Just in case you didn’t get that he was Irish. Now, what really gets to me is that Ryan Murphy is of Irish heritage. And not the usual American claim to Irishness (it’s a word!). I don’t mean he has a great great great uncle called Paddy O’Reilly. Murphy actually grew up in your typical Catholic Irish family. He probably even has the fear of God put into him at the sight of a wooden spoon, so why would he write his first Irish character as an effing Leprechaun?

Now, this is really just a therapeutic rant. I can’t actually offer up any real explanation as to what being Irish really means. This probably isn’t the best moment to try to explore it anyway, because let’s face it; this is a terrible time to be Irish. I will, however, offer up some recommendations of a few movies that portray us Irish as real, normal people:

Kisses – A very sweet movie about two urban children who spend a rough night together in Dublin city.

Savage – As its title suggests, this is a violent look at gang culture and masculinity. Very in-yer-face, very gory, and very well done.

Cowboys and Angels – A coming of age film about a green twenty-something who moves to Limerick city and finds himself confronted with a culture of drugs and frivolity.

Adam and Paul – While I haven’t seen this yet, admitting so to my countrymen has always resulted in exasperated groans, so I’m fairly certain it deserves a place on this list. From what I’m told, this is a sweet but sad film with a uniquely Irish humour that explores the growing drug culture in Dublin.

Update: While proof-reading this post, I asked my boyfriend what characteristics he associated with being Irish. “Nothing.” He replied. “I don’t like to generalize.” Then, after a few moments: “I think Irish people are too into brand names.”

Would explain why we’re broke, I suppose. But on a lighter note, here’s 200 Reasons Not to Leave Dublin. Number 60 is a personal favourite, because on the night of my 19^th birthday, I was driven home by this man. 
Oh, Dublin.