Birds, Birds, Birds

Mom and I just got back inside from taking Sammy (the dog) out for his nightly constitutional. It's a lovely warm, summer evening. The sun is in the final stages of setting and the air is still, except for the kaleidoscope of birds flying between my high rise and the one across the street.

Our building is on the edge of a lovely ravine, filled with lush trees and a small stream. The property itself is very well treed providing a lovely haven for our feathered friends.

I wasn't aware of the sky dancing above at first. In fact, what caught my eye was an outline of bird heads along the edge of the high rise across the street. They covered every spare inch of roof top. They also occupied every rod on the antenna. It was the oddest thing. We stood watching groups of birds flying in from the north, south, east and west towards the building and as a group took off from the roof another group would settle. Some birds swooped down swiftly to their selected spot while others hopped up and down as if they were arguing with one another about where they were going to sit. All would be still for about 2 minutes then as if a shot had been fired they would billow up into the air just as another crowd fell into the vacated spots.

I'm not sure what kind of birds they are, but they reminded me of swallows, with their long, sweeping movements: graceful, swirling, dizzying.

My mom remarked that they were making her nervous and we both mentioned Alfred Hitchcock's thriller, Birds at the same time. I remember seeing that movie when I was only 5 years old. I was traumatized for weeks. The evil beasts filled my nightly dreams, picking away at my eye glasses (even though I never wore any), pecking at my hair. Blood covered my face and body, as my parent's tried to fight them off and eventually just as I was about to succumb, I would wake.

Funny how a memory such as that can turn an wondrous moment into an apprehensive one.

***My mom just switched to the news where they are reporting on Hurricane Ivan and the tornado watch that Florida is under. I feel guilty for my stolen moments of awe at Mother Nature when somewhere else right now she is being a real nasty bitch.