Truly Powerful People (458)

458.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

When the bird shot from behind me, passing just inches above my shoulder and grazing my ear, I was surprised and ducked – a now natural response given my relationship with assassin crows. My trigger response of duck-and-cover when I hear the woosh of wings coming from behind has saved my head a good number of divots; crows treat my noggin like a rookie golfer treats a tee. Crows in argyle socks and sleeveless sweaters! A funny image until you realize that in this metaphor I am the green grass about to be clubbed.

It might not seem too unusual for a finch to fly a sortie by my head except we were inside a building. I opened the door to my apartment and the panicked finch came from nowhere, cleared my shoulder and discovered the tricky thing about glass: sometimes you can’t see it. Once while walking across the Reed College campus, Patti and I were having a particularly passionate conversation. We came to the administration building and as I walked through the open door Patti walked into the glass panel next to it. She was as stunned as the bird. She found herself sitting on the ground, her glasses hitchy-screw on her face, small cartoon stars swirled above her head. Trying to make good of an awkward situation I came back through the door and said, “I didn’t see it either.”

The bird recovered faster than Patti and flew behind the jade plant. Lora was in the apartment and we quickly opened all the windows and balcony door. Not knowing what to do, we did what people do: we stood still and looked at each other. Lora said, “What was that?” I made a face and she said, “I know it’s a bird! Where did it come from?” I didn’t have an answer as I had no idea why a bird was lurking in the inner hall of our apartment building. I wanted to say, “It’s the UPS guy and he just shape-shifted into a bird!” but I didn’t. Sarcasm was not appropriate while the bird was still in the room.

It took two more attempts for the finch to find freedom. We ran about trying to be useful, somehow imagining that we were herding the bird toward an open window. I can only imagine that the newly escaped finch met his pals later at the Finch Bar. Rubbing his sore and battered beak he said, “Damn. The weirdest thing happened to me today.” His drinking pals, always sympathetic, shared a knowing glance, bought their friend another berry drink, and quietly hid his keys.

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