Angry Birds

Hitchcock was ahead of his time. We all know this. This is not a revelation. But, why I have come to this conclusion as of late is disturbing to me. I have a confession to make. I don't like birds. They, sort of creep me out. This is why Hitchcock's classic "The Birds" resonated with me.

I had a roommate in college who had a cockatiel. It was O.K. By the end of its life we had learned to get along O.K. He died as a result of our house fire. I had pulled my roommate out of said fire and he went rushing back in to get said bird. Smoke inhalation was the cause.

I have another friend from college who had another cockatiel who lived something like 33 years. He was cranky and bat-shit crazy by the time he passed, but he was an entertaining bird. The bird just died not too long ago. It was clearly a good run.

Ornamental birds aren't so much an issue as wild birds. I don't trust them. They seem smart and wily. I don't like smart animals, except for dolphins. If you don't go in the water, dolphins can't get you. But birds are dangerous.

Lately, I have noticed a polar shift in bird behavior. During my normal travels, I have seen a lot of crazy and aggressive behavior out of birds. They have been swooping closer, waiting longer to take off when being approached. I have discerned long, menacing glances coming from those beady dead eyes. Even their once pretty songs seem more like Klingon Opera lately. In fact, I read a new research study that indicates bird song is not communication so much as it is trash-talk. It's like males hurling yo-mammas at each other to make females love them.

I don't think the aggression is contained within the bird community. Case in point, I have seen several birds dive and swoop toward cars which are at speed. I have seen three in recent weeks not win this battle resulting in a scene reminiscent of stock dog fighting footage where like a plane with its wing shot off - the bird suddenly goes flinging off out of control in what is clearly a death spiral.

Yesterday it happened to me. I was cruising along Highway 51 (which is exactly 10 highways less cool than Dylan's Highway 61) when a starling took off and was well out of my way when for no reason at all, it stopped climbing, took a left and descended right into my windshield in the spot immediately in front of my face.

It hit with a terrific thunk. Actually, it didn't. It was a starling. It weighed less than a fart. I added the thunk in my head because it seemed appropriate.

I had the sunroof open and watched the now dying bird flinging over the roof of the car. Then I watched it in the rear view mirror as it landed, on the pavement behind and to the left of the car.
If it wasn't dead when it landed, it sure wasn't going to be able to move and it was in the middle of the lane, so it wouldn't be long before it was.

I believe this was a calculated attempt at my life. I believe the birds are gathering intelligence. They are trying to figure out windows. They might almost have it. And they are willing to sacrifice and accept the dreadful results of their intelligence gathering. They are putting the stupid ugly birds out there to die for the sake of research - leaving behind only the smart, clipboard carrying research birds bent on the destruction of mankind.

All I know is if a woman who looks like Tippy Hedren comes into the diner where you are eating lunch talking about birds who tried to pick her off on the drive in, you had better listen.

They're coming. And they are coming for us.