Megan Kaiser – Columnist
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
We all know this song. At least, I think we all know this song. If my true love ever tries to send me anything bird related on Christmas, I will be ticked. Now, I have good reason for this. Before I get called the “12 Days of Christmas Scrooge,” hold your horses, or your hens. Whatever. This is the story of a young girl and a terrible experience with birds.
In the summer of my sophomore year of high school, I had a specific running route that I ran at same time every day. I would run past a woodsy area (that woodsy area being 12 extremely dead trees that just hung out together) and in this area lived two angry birds. I have no idea what type of birds they were and I don’t care. As the summer progressed, these birds would fly overhead, continuing to get closer and closer to my skull as the days went on.
Of course I never made anything of it. My music was my concern, plus being on the lookout for farm machinery that would roam the streets of my village and potentially wreck me. Finally, towards the end of the summer, these birds snapped. I don’t know what I ever did to them. I never did anything to ‘threaten’ these birds of fury. I ran past their territory (I wish they just would have asked for my lunch money instead) and Feathers of Terror one and two were in my hair.
I tell you what. I was never a sprinter. I was a long-distance kid. I could run for an hour, but I can’t sprint to save my life. However, that was the fastest I have ever ran in my life. I sprinted past Main Street, which basically consisted of six different businesses, and took a straight shot to my house. I ran into that house and immediately burst into tears. Lame right? So I did what anyone would do after a situation like that. I called my mom. At this point I am bawling. Once I got ahold of her she started freaking out wondering if I was ok. These were my exact words. “Mom… (sob)… I just got attacked (sob)… by birds.” Five seconds of silence and then came a huge burst of laughter from the other end of the line.
Moral of the story is that if birds ever attack you, your mom probably won’t have any sympathy for you and neither will your 70-year-old neighbors. You will fear birds for the following five years. Bird mascots will traumatize you. You may never be normal again.
That’s why I have beef with certain lines in the song “12 Days of Christmas.” Don’t confuse my hate of birds with me being a holiday grump. That’s not the case. If you want to chill out with turtledoves and geese, I won’t be joining your crew, unless you get matching shirts.
Then I’ll think about it.