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.”
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.
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| 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.
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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:
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:
But they can also be disgusting. Like this:
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