The Attack of the...Baby Bird

I don't know how many people know this little fun fact about me, but 

I dislike birds.

This dislike comes from a near death experience that I had when I was about two years old.  How can I remember when I was so young, you might wonder?

It was a near death experience.

So therefore, it is imprinted on my brain forever...

I was at the Hogle Zoo in the Snake/Rodent/Bird building, you know, the one that smells disgusting and every time you walk in it you think, "Why am I here?"  Yep.  That's the one.  We were walking into one section where there are birds that just fly freely around the place when suddenly, I look up and a gigantic bird is coming straight at my cute little forehead.  Now I say it was gigantic because I was two.  It could have been a small bird, but all I remember is something that was the size of a pterodactyl.  At the very last second, it swooped up and over my head, brushing it's feet across the little wisps of hair on the top of my head.  

Every since this harrowing experience, I have not enjoyed birds...up close anyway.

(I know what some of you are thinking..."Don't they have chickens in their backyard?"  Ya.  We do.  Mark's idea.  Not mine.)

Fast forward to the first of June.  The kids are out of school and summer has just begun.  Josh is at his very last Utah Youth Philharmonic practice and I am waiting for him in the van.  I have the windows down, my seat in a reclined position, and calming music soothing my soul.  It was the perfect opportunity to catch a little nap.  So I closed my eyes.

About five minutes later, I hear the flutter of little wings.  I open my eyes in time to see the teeniest baby bird careening into the van through the passenger window. 

"What the?!?"

  Now what?

I was in a quandary.  I am obviously not an expert on birds because I have spent most of my life avoiding them, but I do know that you are not supposed to touch baby birds because then they might be shunned by their mothers.  Even if I wanted to scoop this little fella up into my hands and gently place him on the grass, I felt like that would be a bad idea.

So I opened the van doors in hopes that Mr. Cute Stuff would hop his little tail feathers out of there.  He was chirping up a storm, calling for his mommy. I could hear answers to his chirping from the tree next to the van, but obviously his mother could do nothing for him now.

So we played a little game of 

"I can't touch you birdie, but I need you to get out of my van!"  and

"Please don't go near the top of the pedals!  I don't want you stuck inside my van."

He hopped and hopped and I prayed and prayed.

Finally, Josh came out of his rehearsal and I went into desperation mode.  We decided to risk it and help the little fella out.  Josh grabbed a bunch of tissues, gently scooped Mr. Cute Stuff up and placed him on the ground under the tree.

I don't know if he made it or not, but I hope so.  Even though he was a scary feathered creature, he was pretty cute.

Here is a video of my "Get the baby bird out of my vehicle" experience...