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The Writings on the Stall

Saturday, 2005-04-30

birds birds birds (and hair hair hair)

Outside the Art building, after Art History yesterday, I saw a bird hanging out on a bench-set table. The little creature remained still as I approached. Considering the bird's bravery — in not budging — it was safe to assume s/he was injured.

By the time I could figure out the condition of the bird, another swooped from above, grazing my head. Lucky (second) bird, I thought. My once almighty faux-hawk, a.k.a. the talon, was but a remnant of it's former height, having been cut down a day or so before. We could have otherwise been an entanglement of hair and feathers.

This particular bird dived again and again, barely missing every try. My best initial guess as to why: the swooping bird was protecting the injured one I was saying "hello" to. But then I saw a nest... "Ah." Guarding the home.

On the day or so before, with the pompadour style still intact, the bird might have otherwise mistaken my hair for nesting material. Such are the risks one takes for perfect hair.


2005-05-31 18:46 / scim:

after attacking you, they moved east to houston.

2005-06-01 15:24 / Jonathan Horak:

Damn grackles and their grappling. Thanks for the link, scim.

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