A Bird In The Head Hurts

Birds dislike me.

I don't know why. I've never done anything to the avian community to rouse their ire. In fact, I think that I have been quite tolerant of their activities given that when I find the products of their defecation all over my car after work, or even all over the only open bench at the track, I tend to shrug and say to myself "Meh...what can you do."

Yes, those who know me best will say I'm all about tolerance (if they know what's good for them, that is!). My tolerance, however, disappears when I am challenged.

This particular challenge started a few years ago. I was meeting a friend of mine at his parents' lake place for a bit of muskie fishing and beer drinking (emphasis on the latter). I arrived early and started to lug my suitcase sized tackle boxes and other gear from my car to the boat, which was moored at the dock at the rear of the lot. As I approached the dock, a large black bird (species undetermined) flew uncomfortably close to my unprotected head.

I thought this maneuver to be quite curious but continued on my way nonetheless. Seconds later, the little varmint made another pass. This time, it came so close to my melon that I could hear the thunderous beating of its wings in my ears. I stopped in my tracks. Well...first I swore loudly. Then I stopped in my tracks and sternly fixed my steely gaze upon the creature, now sitting in the tree high above me, as if to say "WTF?".

We both stood silently for a bit and, when I felt satisfied that I had conveyed my message of physical dominance to the beast, I rejoined my quest to reach the boat. No sooner did I take a single step than that cursed little devil's spawn of a monster made a bee line towards my face. I immediately did my best Roger Thornhill impression and dropped face first to the ground. That bird was serious, and I was seriously outmatched.

I jumped up from the dirt and, while thrashing my fishing rod about like a Star Wars fanatic with an out of control homemade light saber, made a very hasty and very ungraceful retreat to my car where I found no small comfort in the cooler of beer that I had left behind in my open trunk.

Needless to say, when my friend arrived and I related my gruesome tale of horror to him, he laughed uproariously while we both walked to the boat without incident and spent the day drinking beer on the lake while catching zero fish.

Since that fateful day, there have been several similar incidents...including today.

While I was out having an incredibly rare smoke break at work (I only smoke a half a pack a week, sweetheart...seriously!) I noticed not one but four bird's nests tucked into the metal soffit above me. I also noticed at least four winged Satans in close proximity to me chirping with increasing frequency. I was apprehensive, but calm.

When the first one dove, I became agitated. When the second one came at me, I instinctively ducked. When the third one flinched...I panicked, flicked my cigarette it, ran like a frightened turtle to the safety of the public corridor behind me and slammed the door shut tight.

While sheepishly looking around for witnesses to this sad chapter in my life I told myself that this would never happen again.

Tomorrow, I find a new smoking area.