I was attacked by a bird. Not just any bird, a momma bird. Not just any momma bird, a momma bird who thought I was trying to hurt her baby.
|I know how she felt...|
Yeah, deep ish, right?
I'll start by saying I'm okay, physically. Emotionally and mentally... still getting there...
I was heading to work one morning, and as I approached the stop sign at the end of my street, I noticed something in the road. It was a baby mockingbird, hopping along, hurt wings. I swerved to miss it, put my car in park, turned on my hazards and got out of the car. I felt that I needed to help it get to safety on the sidewalk.
Now, I'm not an idiot. I knew not to touch it. There was no telling what momma bird would do if I touched it. So, I stood straight up, got behind the baby bird, which made it hop forward. Good, I can work with this.
Above me, I could hear the momma bird squawking at me, flying back and forth frantically, not knowing what to do. She soon figured it out...
I'm slowly stepping toward the sidewalk to make this baby bird hop forward. We almost get to the sidewalk and I happened to look up- there was a car sitting there, waiting for me to get out of the road. I pointed down to the ground, yelled, 'Baby bird' and ushered for them to go around me. They seemed pissed at me, but I didn't care; I was doing my good deed for the day.
We got about 6 inches from the sidewalk, I'm feeling all accomplished that I just saved a baby bird from getting run over by a car, when I feel something swoop down, dig it's claws into the back of my head, and squawk.
My first reaction is to scream and swat at my head, which I did. I turned and looked above me, and the momma bird had already retreated to a safe height. Swoop down, attack big beast, retreat. Nice, right?
At this point, I'm already hauling ass back to my car, and that's when it happened. Out in the open, in an apartment complex, I look up at the trees above me and yell at the top of my lungs,
|No, this isn't me. But this is what happened.|
Holy crap, apparently this is a common thing. I googled
'mockingbird attack' and this came up.
Courtesy of The Telegraph
I quickly got into my car and rolled up the windows, just in case she decided to go for round number two.
I don't blame her for attacking me. I'm like 100 times the size of her baby, who was injured and helpless, and she thought I was trying to hurt it. I would have done the same.
Didn't mean I wasn't pissed off.
Looking back on it, I really wished someone would have gotten that on video. It would have been hilarious. Me helping a baby bird, unsuspecting, momma bird swooping down, attacking me, and then me cussing it out. Classic.
I got to work and gave myself a once-over in the mirror, fearful that she had broken skin, because I knew, if she had, I'd be heading to the nearest emergency facility, and pronto. Birds have nasty diseases. Especially bitchy birds. The good news is, she didn't break skin. So, that was over with.
I told the story to my coworkers, and shared it on facebook. Everyone had me laughing about it in no time. Not physically hurt, and now emotionally and mentally healing. All was good (so I thought)...
Until that evening I was sitting outside the tattoo shop on the bench with the manager, and she looks up to the sky, and flying way above our heads is a momma bird and a baby bird. Not thinking, she says, 'Aww, look at the momma bird and the baby bird flying together. How sweet.' I look up, and my only reply was,
'F*ck those birds.'
Apparently I'm not as healed as I thought I was...