Damn You for Damning Me, Suicidal Bird

During my morning commute, a bird burst out of the bushes on the side of the road and threw itself at my car. Before I could react, what I think was a scrub-jay (no, I don’t want no scrubs…embedded in the grill of my car) or a grackle made a sickening slap as it bounced off the front of my car and into oblivion. Poof, up it went in a burst of feathers like a magician released a dove in front of Ted Nugent.

Image Source
Image Source

While, I don’t necessarily like birds, I do fear and respect them. Why? There is a popular theory out there that dinosaurs didn’t all die out but evolved into birds. That means that there’s something in birds’ genetic code that tells them that they used to rule the planet unchecked, that they were the Alpha predator, but now they aren’t. You can only neuter world rulers so much before they fight back. Keeping a parrot in a cage and making it mimic human language is like reaching into the past and putting clown shoes on a Tyrannosaurus. Birds know they once ruled and want the world back.

Image Source
You know, in case my dumb premise requires some sort of scientifically true base. Image Source

So, while I do not lament the death of this former apex predator, I do fear that I was made a pawn in this bird’s long-range plans. I dismiss offhand that this was an accident. Anyone who has ever driven has felt like they were inevitably going to run over a bird only to have it dart off at the last second or disappear like a feathered teleporter. The bird was clearly suicidal, I can’t rejoice in being reduced to a tool used in its scheme to leave this aviary called Earth.

See the arm in that feathered mass? How about the blood? I fear this is my fate.
See the arm in that feathered mass? How about the blood? I fear this is my fate.

Worse than being reduced to a tool, by forcing me to kill it, to be its instrument of death, the bird has damned me. Much like a criminal who marches up to cops waving a gun so they kill him (called “suicide-by-cop”), this bird has compromised my mortal soul. At the very least, it has caused me great psychological distress. And what about the bird’s family? Surely they will be seeking revenge. Every chirp may be a call to action. Every flap of feather may be a taloned harbinger of beaked-justice raining down upon me.

This may have been the turning point. The birds may not be able to distinguish between us and make their move. I recommend arming yourselves with BB guns and slingshots if you do not wish for the reign of humanity to end. Good luck to me, good luck to us all.

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14 Comments

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  1. My friend hit a canadian goose once. Feathers and blood everywhere. But honestly, I’m surprised the other geese didn’t gather around her and rock the car until it flipped over.

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  2. There was some discussion after the new Jurassic World movie – that scientists believe raptors might have had feathers but that’s not going to fly in a movie, the featherless lizard versions are scarier.

    Your lamentations are astute, Sentient Pickle. Carry on.

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  3. Beware the birdasaur!!

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  4. abeerfortheshower June 22, 2015 — 7:03 am

    I firmly believe that geese are the direct descendants of the T-rex. Every time I go running on the local trail, it’s full of geese that refuse to move off the path like the world’s worst back alley gang. They’re just standing there waiting for you, and when you try to pass, they honk and snap at you. I had a goose try to chase after me for at least 500 feet while I was jogging, still nipping at me. That’s some straight up T-rex s**t.

    What I’m saying is… all birds are awful. Not just the suicidal ones.

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  5. You monster. You deserve The Chair!

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  6. A few years back when I worked in shipping, I was getting a lift off the port from a truck driver &, along the way, an egret that was standing on the side of the road suddenly took off & flew right in front of us. Trucks pass there all the time & the birds in the area usually ignore them so it wasn’t like it should have been spooked or anything. It just… up & flew right into the 14-wheeler’s path. The awkward part was that the driver practically cried over the dead bird for the entire trip after that. I think that bird just wanted out too.

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  7. According to a guest I saw on Melissa Harris-Perry the week the new Jurassic World movie came out, birds ARE dinosaurs. Oh, and dinosaurs had feathers.

    I’m sure the guest was right, because Al Sharpton is a paleontologist, right?

    Regardless, that bird was probably having a rough go of things and instead of being supportive, you drove by in your car.

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  8. Watch out for Velociraptors. I’m betting they are planning to sit on a telephone wire above your car and cover it with raptor shit when you least expect it.

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  9. When I lived in Illinois, wild turkeys frequently ran in front of my car. They’d run a bit and then take off and fly low in kind of a Laurel and Hardy way. I’m amazed I never hit one. The deer were more dangerous and definitely suicidal.

    Love,
    Janie

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  10. I am glad I have never hit any type of bird I think it would be terrible and such a mess to clean up

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  11. That happened to me too once, Pickleope Von Pickleope. A bird of some sort hit my windshield forcing me to murder it. It was creepy and I felt guilty. If only it had been a T-rex wearing clown shoes.

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    • Did you perchance notice a vulture wearing a clown nose recently? That would be the symbolic equivalent of a T-Rex with clown shoes. Watch your back. Particularly because, being named after a bird named after a level in the Catholic hierarchy, birds attacking you would be particularly divine. (Pun intended in every instance.)

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  12. I know what it’s like to be reduced to a tool (I’m married), but this is not about me. Not again…. Though I remember driving on some highway a decade or so ago when all of a sudden a who flock of birds nose dived in front of me and about a hundred birds got killed just like that. Maybe more. I think it was the wind or a suicidal leader of the flock. An indelible moment, I assure you. But this is not about me. So, you’re damned too? Well, I’ll be damned. But this is not about me.

    You are not damned. Let me tell you why. For you to be damned, there needs to be a hell, and green folks just aren’t allowed in there, you know. Well, if it existed, which I suspect (through reprogramming myself on a daily basis but this is not about me) it doesn’t.

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