Last night I watched the series finale of Modern Family and was not at all happy when the story included a pigeon flying into Mitch & Cam’s house while Mitch was home alone with his baby daughter. Watching the pigeon fly around the house, and how close it was getting to him, was making me FREAK OUT in a more dramatic way than the over-the-top-camp fictional character was. It was absolutely horrendous.
Lately I’ve been more aware than ever of just how scared I am of pigeons, or more specifically of one touching me. The flat that Ian and I live in has a little balcony off our kitchen and during the recent hot weather, when it would have been nice to have some fresh air wafting through, I have left that door shut and locked for fear of a pigeon, or any bird, wandering into the flat, getting trapped and touching me in its flapping panic to get out. I also don’t open windows wider than a couple of inches for fear it would be an invitation for one to hop on in.
The other week I accidentally hit a pigeon with my car when it was flying loopily under a bridge. I could see it coming and because of the traffic had no way of avoiding it, so I shut my eyes and shouted “no, no, no, no, no” when I felt it hit. I pulled over immediately and was cowering in the car on the phone to Marge, panicking, hot, short of breath, crying and screaming at her like a mad woman that I didn’t know where it had landed and that it might be on the roof. I imagined it rolling down onto the windscreen and that I’d have to look at it all the way home or touch it (aaaarrrrrgggghhhh!!!) to get it off. She tried to calm me down, but I knew she thought I was insane so I called Ian and told him that in 5 minutes time I would be pulling up to the kitchen door at the restaurant he works at, and that he had to come and check my car to see if there was any pigeon on it before I could get out. I drove there at about 10mph, making sure I didn’t take any sharp turns or brake too suddenly, then when I got there he swore on his life I was all clear, laughed at me and told me that all his colleagues think his sister is demented.
That night it took a couple of serious vodkas before I stopped shaking, and I was traumatised for quite a few days afterwards.
I don’t really know why I’m so scared, I vaguely remember dropping a teeny, tiny, fluffy new chick on the floor at Grandma’s friend’s farm when I was 3 or 4 because it was scratching at my hand and it was TOO WEIRD, and when I was about 13 a pigeon’s wing touched my arm when it flew past which really upset me. But then all of a sudden when I was around 16 I just lost the plot. I can’t sit down on chairs or benches outside in case a sneaky one walks too close to my feet and then needs to fly and ends up getting tangled up about my person. I can’t cope when there’s a pigeon inside a building, even if it’s a massive building like a train station or shopping centre. Naomi once had to drag me out of the Arndale Centre in Manchester because there was a pigeon that was trapped in and trying to get out through the glass door, banging around and completely out of control - I was on the verge of crying and / or doing a little wee through sheer physical terror.
I’m a bit scared of all birds, but my fear of pigeons is the most intense – probably because they’re around more and there’s something about how solid-looking they are and the knowledge that some of them aren’t scared of people that really gets me. Also, I think that just like you get insane people you must get insane pigeons who forget that they’re not supposed to land on humans and peck them / flap on them / claw them.
You can't tell me this isn't horrific.
When I went to Venice with Rachael I kind of ruined her plans because I refused to queue in St Mark’s square to get into the Basilica because it was heaving with hundreds of pigeons that were so used to being fed and petted that they were just landing on people and touching them when they were walking around their feet. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was such a beautiful place but I couldn’t wait to get out of that square – I was completely pre-occupied by fear.
I agree with most people that it’s a bit funny and a lot pathetic, so I’m going to try and get over it. Maybe I should just get it over and done with and touch one…
NOOOOO!
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