Or Would You Rather Be a Fish?

Have you ever really watched a bird do its bird stuff? I’m watching one right now, outside my office window, and let me tell you, that’s all kind of messed up.

First of all, you think you’ve got anxiety? Try being a bird. Maybe not a big scary fucker like a condor or vulture or something, but just an ordinary song bird, one that is brown with a round little head, so nondescript it could just be called Anybird. It has tiny beady eyes that are constantly scanning, its head turning practically 360 degrees to make sure danger isn’t around every corner. Anybird also hops around a lot, because a moving target is much harder to hit. Hop, flit, hop, scan, scan, turn, hop, hop, flit. Stay still already, Anybird. Jesus, you’re making me nervous too.

Anybird has a lot to make it anxious, what with cats and other big birds lurking about, ready to swoop in stealthily and bite off its head. I saw a chipmunk do that once in my backyard. A bird had stupidly flown into my kitchen window and was lying on the ground, stunned, when a crazy ass chipmunk came out of nowhere and dragged it off to a secluded spot in the yard, where it feasted on that bird like it was a Thanksgiving turkey.  Who knew chipmunks were so menacing?

Plus, Anybird has no arms. Wings don’t count. They allow a bird to fly, but that’s about it. Maybe they can be used as a blanket over its head. But can wings hold a fork? Pick up a seed? Grab a worm? Carry piles of straw and hair and other detritus to a safe spot for nest building, and then actually build a nest? No, they cannot. All they can do is flap.  Even bats have freaky little hand like things with long fingers with which to hold fruit. Are birds jealous of bats? Can they even fathom how much easier life would be with arms, or even hands?  What if a bird has an itch that its beak can’t reach? I am sure that is the number one reason that birds have anxiety in the first place. Or maybe number two, after fear of getting eaten.

Once, I saw a video online of a Chihuahua without front legs. It hopped around like a goddamn bird. I wanted to hit it with a hammer and put it out of its misery.

So this little Anybird outside my window is hopping from branch to branch, turning its head around, looking every which way, and then hopping some more, before it stops and lets out a little song. It was a sweet little bird tune, meaningless to me, since I am not a bird, but I am sure it’s more than just a mindless hum and is conveying information to other Anybirds.  What could it possibly have to say? Maybe something like “Shit, it’s cold outside. We flew up here too soon. I told those other birds it was better to stay in Florida a little longer.”  Maybe it’s saying, “Watch out, cat at three o-clock, squirrel approaching, dog walking down the street, car coming at approximately ten miles over the residential speed limit.”  Or maybe something like, “Damn, bitch, you a fine looking Anybird. What you say you come over to my nest so’s I can fertilize your eggs. Ain’t nobody fertilize like I do, baby. I can fertilize allll night. Mmm hmm, that’s right.”

Sweet little bird tunes sound great in the afternoon when I am avoiding doing any real work. They are extremely irritating at 5:45 in the morning, before the sun is all the way up. The early bird might get the worm, but it might also get hit with a flying shoe. Shut the fuck up. I have hands, and I am trying to sleep.

Here’s another thing about birds that I don’t get: what’s with the poop? Who poops in black and white anyway? What the hell are you eating, Anybirds? This afternoon, while I watched that little bird twitching on the bush outside my window, the rest of its flock was crapping berries all over my patio in the backyard, like they had the avian flu or something. What was the point of power washing anyway, now that you ruined it with your Jackson Pollock crap?  Stop Rorschaching on my car, too, if you don’t mind. I don’t shit where you live, so stop shitting all over my home. It’s just not necessary.

On the other hand, er, wing, Anybird, thanks for eating bugs. I’d take back everything I said if you could please do something about the mosquitoes this summer.  And ask over a few of your hummingbird friends, because they kick ass, orinthologically speaking. I dig me some hummingbird. Also, thanks for not being snakes. I sure am glad snakes don’t have wings. Would a snake with wings be a dragon?  No chipmunk could bring one of those down.  I’ll go put out some extra birdseed for you as a little thank you gift. Much obliged, Anybird.