There’s No Such Thing as a Feathered Friend

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So I’m ok with spiders (alright, ok-ish) I have no problem at all with heights, but put me within oh, say 25 metres of anything feathered – no matter how small – and I will almost certainly have a 10-on-the-richter-scale anxiety attack.

I don’t actually remember when or how my bird phobia started – but I suspect it involved a trip to the Currumbin Bird Sanctuary during my childhood – ta for that Mum and Dad. Obviously there’s no chance I’ll be making the same mistake with my own children, thoughtful parent that I am. No Bird Sanctuary for you kids.

And let me tell you, having a phobia about birds is exhausting – they are bloody difficult to avoid. That is part of the reason I am not so much an “outside” person. Unless my worst nightmare happens – a bird flies inside (more on that later) – I can be pretty secure in the knowledge that as long as there are 4 walls, a roof and closed windows (derr – that’s what airconditioning is for) I won’t have a feather-induced freakout.

Of course, it doesn’t always go that way…

Many moons ago, before The Councillor was a Councillor, he was the Public Relations Manager at Brown Brothers Wines in Wangaratta in north east Victoria (not at all a crap job).  Anyway, at the time, I was living in Brisbane (long story – a whole ‘nother post) and we were flying between Wangaratta and Brisbane every few weeks.

The Councillor was living in a little cottage on a big property just outside Wangaratta, sharing with a 19yo girl (I know, I know) who kept chickens.  It was the country after all.  I was down on one of my visits, and The Councillor and the flatmate were both at work. I woke up late (well, I didn’t have to go to work) and wandered into the kitchen, where I was faced with – literally – my worst nightmare.  Someone had left the back door open, and every single one of the flatmate’s 20 chickens was in the kitchen. To make it worse, the back door had swung almost closed – but stupid chickens, having wings instead of arms, hadn’t been able to pull the door open to get back out.

So not only was the kitchen full of chickens, it was full of freaked out chickens trying desperately to get the hell out of there.

Not as hard as I was trying to get out of there though.

I’m surprised The Councillor didn’t hear me screaming from his office 10km away, but the residents of “the big house” on the farm heard me, and came flying down the drive brandishing a shotgun to deal with the axe murderer they were sure had me bailed up.

I was not at all embarrassed to tell them that a kitchen full of mad-eyed chickens was every bit as bad.

There is one other defining moment in the story of my bird phobia.

Several years ago we lived in Manly, in Sydney. I was walking to the ferry, which generally meant navigating my way around dozens of “flying rats” aka seagulls. I usually managed this by walking as though I was full as a boot on moonshine – weaving my way between the various gatherings of seagulls on the path.

On this day however, when faced with an enormous flock of seagulls (I didn’t like the group either) on the path, I decided it was time to harden up, and walk straight through them.  As long as they didn’t take off (just typing this sentence is sending shivers down my spine) I’d be ok.  It’s the flapping that freaks me out.  So head down, I soldiered forth.

All good until I got to the perimeter of the flock – at which point a hot chip came sailing through the air from the direction of a picnic table next to the path.  The chip landed in the middle of the flock – at the exact same time as I stepped into it.  All 15,000 seagulls (yes there were) took off at once, and I was in my own personal hell.

I screamed, obviously, and then marched directly to the picnic table from whence the chip had come and began a rant that went a bit like this:

I can’t believe you threw a chip to those birds!! Can’t you read the signs?  Don’t you know you’re not supposed to feed the birds?! You’re obviously not local, or you’d know that the seagulls are just vermin! No local would ever feed them! I can’t believe you’d do something like this.” An on and on…

Now, I hadn’t taken any real notice of the occupants of the table, such was my indignation.  Until a lady from the table came up to me and quietly apologised for the errant chip, before going on to explain that the people at the table were physically and intellectually disabled, and one of them had just been trying to eat the chip, when he had inadvertently flung it in the direction of the seagulls.

No, there are no words.

And it’s proof that birds are the work of the devil.

 

23 Comments
  • Annieb25
    April 7, 2011

    You have finally done it … YAY!!!!! It’s great. I never knew you had a bird aversion. I must get @_adeleblair_ to read this blog. She is a bird phobe as well!! Welcome to blogging – it’s so nice to have you here xx

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 9, 2011

      Hi Annie! Thanks so much- yay me! It’s nice to be here. What I didn’t realise was that once you get some really fantastic comments (which I did *blushing*) post number two becomes twice as hard to write. Still, am having fun, which is what it’s all about – right? Mwah xx

  • Kristen Coggan
    April 7, 2011

    Oh I know your pain. I to have a slight bird aversion, maybe not quite as severe as yours, but nonetheless I feel they are horrid dirty things with their lice filled feathers. As I live in the country I can’t really share this with too many people as I would be constantly taunted with birds live and dead. Can you imagine my horror when at my friends house for an ICPA meeting she put her pet budgie on my shoulder? In front of many ladies that are good friends with my mother in law, local government members and others (who at the time were all eating tiny cakes and drinking tea with their pinky fingers sticking out) I scream FAAAAARK and run around looking like a ninja in fast forward? Yes birds are the devil in disguise.

  • Tracy
    April 7, 2011

    I have also brainwashed my choldren…everytime they see those smelly crane birds they always turn to me and say “dirty vermin”.
    Seriously this was so entertaining, funny and engrossing I was only sorry when it ended. Please keep up the blog with more stories of the life and times of the lovely ironing Mrs M.

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 9, 2011

      Thanks! Turns out post number is 2 comes with way more pressure than the first one, but hey, I’m up to the challenge! See u at the school gates xxx

  • Amber
    April 6, 2011

    I so feel your pain. I felt physically ill reading the chickens inside story. KateHunter is well aware of my bird phobia. The flapping, the flapping…..agrhhh!! I luckily have trained both my children to chase birds away from me “leave my Mummy alone they shriek running around with their little arms in the air”.
    Anyroad, congrats on the blog. You and your lovely sisters are such funny clever gels. I look forward to more. Amber x

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      Hi Amber! Thank you so much for your comment! As a newby blogger I am desperately needy, so was thrilled beyond belief to get your comment. I wish I could say my children were as considerate as yours – mine think it’s hilarious to say “Look Mum, there’s a bird behind you! Hahaha you’re such a ‘fraidy-cat”. Nice.
      Thanks also for being so complimentary about my blog! After procrastinating about it for so long it’s nice to finally have it out there. Here’s hoping I can keep up the momentum! Take care, Nic x

  • Bern Morley
    April 5, 2011

    Right, seeing as I only got acknowledged as commenter test pilot, I will now officially comment. I love your blog. I love this post and I loved it when you told me the stories the other day. You have a total knack for writing and being interesting in the process. Keep on keeping on. xx

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      Wing Man is probably a better term. And for the record, Ironing and Apostrophes would still be floating around the guts of my Macbook without your help x

  • HereIAmLoulou
    April 5, 2011

    Miss Nic, you my lady are a very funny women and will you stop “backhandedly” putting yourself down.
    You write like you are a professional script writer and make the reader grasp you next sentence and take us to where you want to go.
    I love your tweets when I catch them (I can’t sit at the computer all day – some days I’d like to).
    I do know of one other lady that has the same phobia as you and a close friend of mine (I said close friend not me), has a phobia of moths in the same room. Can you imagine when one of those “big black” moths is on a wall in the same room as she and she can’t even speak let alone scream!

    by the way – I don’t think cemetery’s are too glamourous either 🙂

    Now that you are a grammar master – please don’t critic my post replies as I type as fast as I can go and sometimes “something’s gotta give” and that “something” is usually some grammar.

    thank you again and “just keep typing, typing typing…” (sung in Dory voice from Nemo)
    x

    HereIAmLouLou (twitter) (not twatter as my DH calls it)!

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      A bizillion thank yous! I can’t tell you how much your comment means to me :).
      I had forgotten about moths!!!! My post should have included moths – although my fear of those is restricted to the giant black ones that freaks your friend out. I used to work in Canberra, and for a couple of months every year the Nation’s Capital was descended upon by Bogong moths (giant, browny-black hideous things) which would find their way into desk drawers, cupboards, cars – blech. And the worst thing about them was that they would leave behind this kind of “dust” – I never found out what it was but – erk, gross. Gee, I bet you’re glad you commented :).
      Anyway, thank you again. I hope I can keep the momentum going!
      Nic x

      • HereIAmLoulou
        April 6, 2011

        you wil I know – all faith and pressure lies upon you! Gee bet you’re glad you started this 🙂
        I must say I will now think of you each time a very well used expression in our house is used;
        “like seagulls to a hot chip”.
        And so Nic’s story continues…

  • Linda
    April 5, 2011

    Bawk, bawk, bawk.

    Just wanted to see if I could freak you out a little.

    Funny story and a great start in blogland. Yay, you!

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      Haha – the sight, the sound, the imagined threat – they all freak me out :).
      Thanks so much for your comment. Onwards!

  • Seraphimsp
    April 5, 2011

    I know this makes me a terrible person but I giggled the whole way through this post. I am sure it must be a horrible phobia. But the chicken scenario is a laugh out loud CLASSIC. Welcome to blog land. You’re going to be a HUGE hit.

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      “Thank you” doesn’t quite cut it, but it comes wrapped up with a giant bow x

  • Kym OGorman
    April 5, 2011

    Yay – so glad to see your blog in action! And what a start. Have never quite understood the fear of birds – rats and canetoads being the species that most send fear to my heart and a little bit of vomit to my mouth – but anything that can inspire stories like those needs to be respected. You probably shouldn’t visit our house – very cheeky magpies have been known to steal toasted sandwiches from the hands of adults.

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      OMG – I would totally sell up and move out if that happened to me!
      Thanks for your encouragement – it meant a lot x

  • traceyb65@exemail.com.au
    April 5, 2011

    is it possible to remember that last story without scorching red cheeks? how i feel for you … yep, feeling it again. SCORCHING red cheeks. xt

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 6, 2011

      No, every time I so much as think about it, I want the earth to open up and swallow me. Thanks for reading it – and commenting! Nic x

  • Kirsty Rice
    April 5, 2011

    I would like to challenge that you have the worlds most annoying dog, our beagle is stiff competition. Thanks for the giggle. Kirstyx

    • Nicole McLachlan
      April 5, 2011

      You are my first commenter! (Technically Bern Morley was the first, in her role as “commenter test pilot”) but nevertheless, I could not have been more excited to get your comment than if I had been picked up and syndicated :). A thousand thank yous. Nic x

  • Bern Morley
    April 5, 2011

    I love this story. I love your blog. Check 1. 2.

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