Sweet Dreams Don’t Start With The Sounds Of People Dying

There are a lot of animals in this wide world that I love. Whether it’s because the are super cute or because they are a ‘badass honey badger’, these little guys make me smile! On the flip side, there are a few animals that I would rather avoid: like bears (because they want to take over the world) and snakes (because let’s face it they are creepy as hell). And then…there are the animals that I want to see gone…okay so I realize PETA will probably burn an effigy of me for saying that, but I promise I have my reasons. And the animals that I would love to see gone typically fall into just one species category: birds.

Birds hate me, which is really sad since I used to love them all. My love/hate relationship with these critters began at an early age. When I was a teenager, I found several baby blue jays that had fallen out of their nest onto my roof. I could easily reach the nest from the edge of the roof, so I figured I would play ‘Good Samaritan’ and return these defenseless creatures to the mommy and daddy – big f***ing mistake! It was like that seen from Gulliver’s Travels when all the Lilliputians beat the shit out of Gulliver. All I knew is that as soon as I stood up on that roof, hundreds of birds dive bombed my ass. Within minutes they had made me their bitch. I felt like King Kong on the Empire State Building as he blindly swatted at the attacking airplanes while knowing at any minute he could fall and die – which I did…well minus the dying part. After only 45 seconds, these little bastards had caused me to fall from the roof and land on the hard cement below. A part of me wanted to get up and walk quietly inside, grab my gun, and eat fried pigeon. But I was afraid they would embarrass me again, so I let it go.

Another experience came many years later when a friend of mine gave me a Quaker Parrot she could no longer take care of. I loved that bird…and it hated me. It tried to take my fingers off every time I fed it. But I didn’t retaliate…no, I was sweet and loving as I believed in my naïvety that the bird, Kiwi, would come to reciprocate those feelings as well. After about six months, the bird seemed to calm down. I was thinking “awesome, I knew I could make this work.”

I couldn’t have been more wrong. You see, I had just underestimated the sheer evil of these creatures. As I was getting ready to change the newspaper in the bottom of the cage, Kiwi made his move. He flew straight at me and gashed my face! I fell back in surprise as talons descended on me. It only took a few seconds for me to remember that I was much bigger than him…so I got angry…and I made sure Kiwi would never bother me again…

To this day, I don’t like the taste of kiwi.

Another experience, which is very recent, involved my mothers African Grey. This bird, Rae-Rae, talked and sang and was pretty damn pimp! And my dumbass decided that hey, maybe birds aren’t evil. Rae-Rae would perch on my shoulder. She would sing in my ear. I would give her treats, but part of me was always on guard.

After a few weeks, I had relaxed completely…and that’s when Rae-Rae struck. I had gone to her cage and opened the door and stood by as she clambered out and then climbed up on my arm. She cooed at me and I smiled. I never saw the flash of malevolence in her eyes. Because after cooing and nuzzling my arm, she BIT THE SHIT OUT OF ME! I mean she took a chunk of flesh out of me! I almost needed stitches! My mother could see the look of rage crossing my face as she quickly took Rae-Rae off my arm.

Rae-Rae laughed maniacally as she nuzzled my mother’s neck. She knew she had won the day.

But my first experience…my first experience should have been enough warning to avoid these hellish monsters.

I was seven years old. And I had just watched A Nightmare on Elm Street. (Yes, I was greatly supervised in my TV watching habits.) I went to bed, my head filled with thoughts of a man that could kill you while you slept. I was a little freaked out, I admit it.

Eventually, I managed to fall asleep.

Now we take a slight intermission so that I can provide context. In my neighborhood, there was a mated pair of peacocks. We had just moved into this house a mere two days earlier. Unbeknownst to me, these big blue birds liked to sleep in a low hanging limb right outside of my window.

Now back to my story…it was a round 3:00 AM when I heard it. A sound like that of children being tortured and killed. It was screaming, mewling sound that rocked me with fear. All I could think was: Freddy Krueger was coming for me! I grabbed a baseball bat and hid under the bed…until I remembered that Krueger could kill me easier if I was pinned under a mattress, so I quickly locked my self in a closet. I remained there the whole night.

This went on for days…I tried telling my mother that a demon was coming for me, but she didn’t believe me. I think she almost took me to be tested…After a week of no sleep, and at that point refusing to go into my room at night, mom relented and said she would stay there with me…

The damn birds slept somewhere else that night. So now, not only does mom think I am losing my mind…I am starting to think it as well. The next two nights were calm and I thought, “hey, it’s finally over.”

It had only just begun…

I had finally starting sleeping well again, then it started. That deathly sound. This time I calmly went and woke up my mother and nearly forcibly dragged her into my room. It was quiet again and I started to freak out. Although I didn’t see her face, I am sure she was pissed at being woken up for nothing…but then she heard it too…

I have never seen someone move so fast…as she ran from my room, leaving me standing there with whatever was coming to kill us all.

The next night I slept on the couch. Mom had set up a tape recorder to record the sounds – if they occurred again!

Long story short…the recorder captured the sounds and one of the neighbors laughed as they told us what it was. We waited outside one of the nights and actually watched them get up into the tree right outside my bedroom…

To this day, I don’t sleep well…thanks to two overgrown pheasants…

So that is my story…Plainly put: I think birds are vindictive little f***’s and they need to stay the hell away from me! They watch us from their little perches. Looking down on us. Thinking they are better. It’s why they wreck our airplanes! You think that they accidentally fly into jet engines? They kamikaze on our asses to mock us.

“What you can’t fly without some big metal machine?” They ask.

Then they show us just how frail our machines are! They don’t need us to give them a reason – they just despise us! I bet that’s how they ended up on the menu to begin with! We don’t eat monkeys! The worst they do is throw poo at us, and since we wish we could do that to people we don’t like – we just laugh it off!

No…birds just hate us for no damn reason.

After all there is a reason the game is called Angry Birds.


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