I don't care for birds. They give me the creeps. I know they're beautiful and serve their purpose but they still make me a little crazy. Alfred Hitchcock didn't help but I mostly picked this up from my grandmother. She was very superstitious. A bird that accidentally flew into your house meant that someone close to you was going to die. There's an upper thought as you're running around your house with a broom trying to get the stupid creature to fly out.
I don't consider myself superstitious but I do feel the prickly hairs on the back of my neck when a black cat crosses my path or someone walks under a ladder. I think it's my grandmother saying, "I'm still here."
On vacation a few years ago, there was a child near me on the beach. He took great pleasure in throwing his chips in the air and all the seagulls would come flocking. My girlfriends were hysterical because I was having a meltdown. All of these birds swooping down! Hello, Alfred Hitchcock! Suddenly, I'm Tippi Hedren without the pretty hairdo. Not funny, Grandma!
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2 comments:
This is great. My husband would totally relate. He had to take care of my mom's Doves once and it totally freaked him out. He thought they were going to attack...doves are so beautiful, but he thinks they have beady little eyes!
They do have beady eyes. I don't care if they are the symbol of peace -- stay away from me! Thanks for the comment.
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