An open letter

To the wee little bird who wouldn't move out of my way this morning at the gas station:

That thing I was doing with my hands, that's the universal sign for "fly away!" Learn it. Seriously, I was late for work and you could totally see that there wasn't a whole lot of space between my car and the gas pump but you just stood there, blocking my way, like it was Trader Joe's and we were in the produce aisle. Have you been? It's right down the street if you feel like going and blocking other people. It's like they hire people to stand in your way there. You could earn a little income. And they have really good snacks.

Anyway, I think it was pretty obvious that my only options were to either go around the car to get to my door or hop over you. But here's the problem, and don't take this personally, but I don't actually like birds. You kind of scare me. I'm fine with you flying around or hanging out in trees, but when actually confronted with one up close and outside of a cage, I get a weird feeling that you're going to pass some kind of horrible disease on to me (ever heard of Avian flu?) or you're going to fly up and get tangled in my hair or peck my eyes out or poop on me. I didn't like either option because to go around the car would have been pretty silly, and to hop over you meant that I would have tempted the whole disease/flying up scenario. So I tried shooing you. No luck. I tried moving my foot in your direction. You didn't even flinch. You just gave me a look that said, "What do you want, lady?" Um, I thought it was pretty obvious what I wanted. For your tiny bird butt to get out of my way. But you didn't get it so I hopped, and then made a mad dash into the car and slammed the door shut because the whole Avian flu thing seemed like a real possibility if you weren't moving.

Maybe you have bird consumption and you were too weak to fly and you're bird pals couldn't do anything for you so they just left you in the gas station, hoping that someone would pick you up and take you home and hold your little wing while you swoon on the couch. Or maybe it was the bird gang initiation that Katie is always talking about. Maybe you had to try to intimidate someone at the gas station into going around their car. Well, better luck with the next chump, or get well soon. Which ever is the case. Next time, please move.

Sincerly, Rachel

PS. Here's a shot of one of the few Rachel Approved Birds: