The birds at school, I kid you not, are suicidal. I don’t know what type they are or how long they live, but I know they think they’re invincible and they freak me out. They dive in front of cars passing by, escaping a very brutal, but very blunt, death by about a quarter of an inch. Not only will they do this individually, but they’ll also do it as one big flock. If a car so happens to hit a couple, the birds seem to enjoy the challenge.
“Well, guys, that’s four out of… How many of us are there? 200?… Pretty good, everyone! But maybe next time, we can get that down to one or two. Let’s split that number in half, ladies and gentlemen!”
And when I walk outside the campus building and start walking the quarter mile to my car, I look up and to the right, where the evergreens reach higher than I’d like to imagine. Everything is quiet, no one else is around because it’s raining outside. Slowly, steadily, the screeching of a mass population of teeny fowl rises out from the trees. They taunt me, they torment me, and they’re questioning whether or not they should dive in front of me next…
Ever see the movie Birds? Yeah, don’t.