These last few days Alfred Hitchcock has come to mind. Not because I’ve watched any of his movies or because I think he walks on water. Nothing like that. I’m feeling a little like Tippi Hendren’s character in The Birds. Then again, maybe not. I haven’t had my perfectly coifed hair picked apart by large birds.
For about three weeks now, a daily ritual occurs here at the “Merritt Bird Motel”. I hear a persistent “knocking” on each glass door to my house and the rear window of the room next to my office. The first time I heard this knocking, I walked to the door expecting the mailman—nothing. I returned to my office, again the annoying knock. As I peeked around the northwest corner of my kitchen, a bluebird stared through the kitchen door. I’m sure this is nothing more than some type of territorial attack with the nice little bird reflection. But everyday?
I confess, I’ve now come to expect the rat-a-tat-tat of the orange breasted avian. It’s almost as though they’re trying to tell me something. When I approach the door, the birds continue to peer into the window. We make eye contact. I’m spellbound. Ever made eye contact with a bird? A little unnerving. Today, one graced the window of my office. He perched on the screen and we chatted for a while. I know a little psycho, but it was kinda cool to be so close.
I know I’ve aroused your suspicion concerning my sanity. Please give me a shadow of a doubt. This is indeed a true story.
2 comments:
LOL Marian, dear? You're sick.
Loved it-I found referrences to Bates Motel, Rear Window, North by Northwest, and Psycho. I am sure you have more but I have to go-my vertigo is kicking up.
Post a Comment