I'm totally scared of birds. My mother has an infinite fear of the feathery friends and she instilled shear panic in me dating decades back, when my dad and I tried to save a fallen baby finch with a broken wing and my mom wouldn't let me touch it, or open the shoe box to give it more food or water despite it was crying for its baby momma, insisting it had rabies. (Do birds get rabies? I never thought to ask her then and it's possibly sadder that I don't know the answer now. Not sadder than making the word sadder
I'm pretty sure that the reason my mom hates birds is either her sister or dad or both of them, used to chase her around the yard with a chicken after it got it's head cut off, just prior to being placed at the center of the dinner table and grace was said to initiate the digging in. She also had the disgusting chore of plucking the chicken. Yikes, all things I could not deal with, but I'm not sure how the danger transcended into this little tweety bird when I was 6?
More Cherry Blossoms
this is the one I used in the Panarama. still figuring out the ratio
I've been scared of birds ever since.
I think they're very pretty, talented and probably not aggressive on average as a species, but I really don't give them a chance to show me their best feather. It's a respect thing...I give them space, because I don't want my eyeballs pecked out because my luck would have it while I'm laying on the ground writhing in my bloody blindness, the cats that I am also totally afraid of will come suck my breath away, instead of killing the eyeball pecking bird, the way Gawd intended it.
This is really scary stuff people.
I should have known something was up this morning when I stepped not once, but twice into duck poo at the Rhododendron Garden. It's one thing to just step in it, because you can usually use the edge of the curb and scrap it off or go to the grass and try and smear it all off, but no...my jeans were a bit long and my shoes were a bit short and by stepping in the bright neon green poo I ended up embedding it into my denim for the rest of the day. Ewww...Gross! I
tried to roll the hem up so at least I didn't have to look at it, but this was certainly a sign, yes from Gawd, I'm sure of it.
Tuesdays are free at the Garden, but this was a Friday and we can't go on Tuesdays, so Shaun and I made a day of it for I think $3 each on a Friday. To have a sun shiny day in April in Oregon is without a doubt a treat. Not quite as good as a sunny day at the beach in Feb (see last post) but very fantastic for sure! And really, that's Apples and Oranges, people. Combine the long awaited Vitamin D that Oregonians are deprived of for the better part of the year and the sweetly fragrant blooms of the trillions of varieties of Rhodies and Azaleas, this is surely a great way to blow a day off!
After parousing (no idea how to spell that) the garden, it's about lunch time so we hit up the overpriced Organic
mart to grab lunch and head to the park to read some trashy mags and scratch off lottery tickets. Good times. Except instead of getting the real
trashy mags that depict reality
of our North American celebs, I pick up some dollar Portland periodical that lists the weekends arrests along with their mugshots. I thought it would be funny to look through, but really after the ninth person was busted for 'strangulation' I was seeking the $2 Bingo card for refuge.
So, in the backround is the soft flow of the Johnson Creek lapping on the shore, little kiddies playing tag, a drunk bum in the corner snoring (no, not Shaun or I, it's still daylight out...not that daylight stops us from being drunk bums, but on this particular day, it was neither of us. It was a different drunk bum.) Then I hear this familiar bird-like honking and wings flapping and more honking and ducks and geese crying out and flying away...all from this one lone white goose in the distance. There were ducks definitely minding their own business while we were having lunch, and while they were not doing anything to bother us, I was still keenly aware of there existance, like "Never close both eyes"
or "Always keep one eye open"
or whatever that saying is. But this white one, the big
you would think this was it's fall color, nope.
nasty white one, came out of no where looking for a fight. Needless to say, I tried to act brave...so did Shaun but right after I clicked the 2nd photo of "When a Killer Goose Attacks"
we dropped our picnic and bolted to the safety of our car!
That Goose was a dick!
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