There were signs of danger but I think I ignored them. I
plowed on with my mission and optimistically thought, This will be straightforward. What could go wrong? The first sign
of potential trouble should have been the rule about wearing shoes. Closed-toe
shoes, specifically. Steel-toed, if necessary. Hmmmm.
The warning came from my good friend, and she would know.
She was going out of town for several days and needed a pet sitter. She’d fed
our cat while we were away. I wanted to reciprocate and figured it would be
easy-peasy. It’s not like she had a saber-toothed tiger as a pet. They were two
small birds. How hard could this be? She gave me her keys. I knew where the water
and food was. I knew what to expect. Or so I thought.
On the first day I let myself in and the trouble started
even before I’d closed the front door behind me. “SQUAAAAAAWK!!!!!
SqquaaaAAAACKKK!!!!!!” I heard bird sounds as I shut the front door. Okay, they
knew I was here. Fine. They’re greeting me. Could this be bird-speak for, “Hello,
kind lady. Thank you for coming to feed us. We appreciate it.” I’m no bird
psychologist, but there seemed to be an edge to the squawking. These didn’t
seem to be happy chirps. The birds sounded angry. Hmmmmm.
I let myself into their room. Yes, they had their own room.
There were two of them, after all, and my bird-loving friend wanted them to
have a room to fly around, not just a teeny cage. “I’m here to feed you,” I
explained cheerily to them. “I have food. Yum, yum!” The birds did not
understand my “I come in peace” greeting and promptly flew to the floor and
began pecking at my toes. Thank Heavens I’d followed my friend’s warning about
wearing closed-toed shoes. My first attempt to get them to stop involved a nice
tone and reasonable words. I said something like, “Please stop that, nice
birdies.” Reasoning with them did not work. That’s
strange, I thought. I was sure that all members of the animal kingdom knew
the first rule of survival: you don’t bite (or peck) the hand that feeds!
When it became clear that they were not going to stop, I gently
shook my foot to dislodge the bird that had hopped onto my shoe so as to peck
with greater aim and intensity. The bird jumped off and I began trying to feed
him and his feathered friend. Same result. More shaking them off my feet.
Perhaps a slightly less friendly tone in my voice as I asked, then demanded
that the birds stop pecking. Eventually I managed to give them fresh water and
food and to escape the room with my shoes and body mostly intact. My heart was
racing, yes. My sanity had been a little shaken, sure. The poor birds had been
through an ordeal, too. They had puffed out their feathers so as to scare me,
the invader. Their tiny hearts were probably thumping a hundred miles an hour.
Too much excitement for one day. I think the birds and I were glad that this
disturbing transaction would not have to be repeated for another 23 hours and
45 minutes!
The birds’ names are particularly funny given this violent
story I’ve shared. I swear I’m not making this up: they were named “Happy” and “Go
Lucky.” Happy when their owner was there, sure. “Go pecky” when Sarah, the big,
bad intruder is there.
About a year later the birdies both went to the great aviary
in the sky. I’m quite sure that they are snuggled in nests made of cashmere,
and feast from an endless buffet of delicious vegetables and ripe chunks of
fruit. My friend was devastated after her birds went to birdie Heaven. I felt
badly for her because while the birds clearly hated me, she was their protector
and friend, and they had quite a bond. My animal-loving friend is now a dog
owner, and she dotes on her dog the way she loved those birds. Any animal who
adopts her will feel loved.
It’s been ten years since my brief career as bird sitter.
Yesterday I was thinking of my adventures in bird land as I took my morning
walk. I’m not sure why that memory flew into my mind but it might have been
because there were lots of bird sounds yesterday morning. Spring is coming and
birds are out, feathering their nests, looking for worms, and swooping through
the trees.
I laugh now as I look back on my short-lived stint as bird
whisperer. It’s funny how much I ruffled the birds’ feathers, and vice versa.
But I learned something important from that episode: always heed the rules when
shoes and shirt are required.
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