I have only seen pieces of the masterpiece "The Birds" by Hitchcock. However, as frightening as that may be - NOTHING can beat the sound of thousands of tiny, confused birds flitting from tree to tree and fighting over territory like gangs of little, feathery hoodlums (The Beaks and The Claws?).
I awoke early this morning to head to an appointment, and after leaving the bathroom, turning off my radio and hair dryer, I stepped into the darkened bedroom to find my hubby lying on my pillow with a kitty wrapped around his arm. I paused as a strange noise filled my freshly cleaned ears.
'Is that-? Are those-? Is that sound from all those birds?" I asked him incredulously as a loud boom of peeps, chirps and caws broke forth.
"Yup," he said sleepily and stretched one hairy arm up into the air, "I think they're confused."
"They're scary is what they are!" I sat down on the bed and thanked my lucky stars that I parked in the garage. The big swarm of feathery, flighty friends have taken residence in the three tiny trees in our front yard. Once bright green, these little trees have faded with the season but appear to be completely black due to the amount of tiny creatures living in them. When we go to get the mail, or just pull into the driveway, they swarm up and out in a large looping circle and attempt to play chicken with one another as they swoop lower and lower to the innocent humans just trying to get the junk mail from Ed McMahon.
"They're after me..." I whisper to no one as I pull carefully out of the garage and try not to glance into the rearview at the growing black crowd of angered birds.
They know me - and I think back to that fateful day when, in an open-aired mall in the heart of Paradise - I got pooped on.