Ducks in the office

I don't often get the chance to interact with birds.

In fact, in the past, I've run in tears from opportunities to meet birds, such as the raptors at the fair, my friend's parrot, the plucky pigeons in the square, or the chickadee eating crumbs under my table at the outdoor cafe.

It's only when really cornered, when I need to seem like a total bad ass, or when I want to test the boundaries of my phobia, that I stifle the urge to bolt. In these circumstances I just observe, get goosebumps, and later that night, check the bedsheets for dead birds.

When I worked at the newspaper and interviewed farmers — who often don't have time for any kind of sit-down, so I would toddle along next to them as they worked — I'd have to be totally cool if I had to step over a dead bird in the barn, for instance, 

because what kind of pussy agriculture reporter is afraid of a stupid dead bird?

The fear is irrational. No bird is going to peck me to death, or "pidge" me, as I called it as a kid.

I've slowly overcome the phobia. Baby steps.

I touched pet a chicken at the fair about five years ago. Major hurdle there.

And then, there was Ducks in the Office.

Through circumstances I don't remember, my friend Amy was raising ducks in her apartment a few years back. One day, she decided to bring the ducks to the office

for a little meet and greet with Hillary, the girl with the phobia.

It was utterly terrifying ... at least in the beginning.

I present to you a myriad of Hillz emotions in

"DUCKS IN THE OFFICE"

No ducks were harmed during this interaction.

PURE EVIL

Therapeutic, right?

The initial greeting was a nightmare. They were cute, soft baby birds — which were only lovely as a poster in someone's office cubical, as far as I was concerned — but instinct said get the hell out of here.

But then I was urged to pick one up. And I did.
They didn't peck, "pidge," flap their wings, or try to intimidate me.
They may have wanted to, but they didn't.

Then entered the well-as-long-as-I'm-holding-you-I-may-as-well-have-a-good-look-at-you stage....

.... followed by the oh-so-cute-and-soft-and-not-so-bad-after-all-
I-wonder-if-my-landlord-would-let-me-have-a-duck phase.

FRIENDS

I'm not to the point of really wanting a duck, but they're the only bird I can really tolerate up close.

Fun fact there, people.

"Ducks in the Office" was a major turning point.

Thanks, Amy. 

___________

HH