I know the sound is incredulous, as borne out by some of the comments on the original Facebook post, but it really happened just as stated. However, the whole story is more unbelievable than my words can justify. It is incredible to me anyway.
Granted, the area in question is posted “warning nesting area,” so I think that, as a given, the postings should be well ahead of the warned area, to either approach or pedestrian traffic; that’s my critical point. However, I realize that these birds are highly protective of their young and can be aggressive under these circumstances. I concede that I was in their area, and they didn’t like it, so it’s likely my fault. They were only reacting as any good mother would, given the perceived threat I posed.
Now, for my testimony of the human circumstances.
I was out for a ride, as I do most days, with my dog, walking her. She loves to walk, and I love to take her because the exercise is beneficial for both of us. She being 15 and I being 70, so you can see we’re both senior citizens out to benefit both our lives. I have been through this area numerous times and have taken note of the sign posted; however, I never paid much thought to it until Thursday.
This is how it happened: when I got even with the sign, I was slugged in the back of the head with what seemed like a man’s slap, by the way a man slaps is equal to 18,400 inch feet, that seems like an enormous blow to the back of the head. One would not think the pictured Mississippi kite could inflict such a staggering blow. I didn’t realize it was a bird at the time. I thought somebody must have thrown something at me, perhaps, or I didn’t know. I was totally taken aback by the surprise, so I looked back to see what had happened, and there was no one behind me. No, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I continued further, and I didn’t get another pedlde father down the path until I was assaulted again. This time, I gave serious consideration to self-preservation, so I put my hand to my head where I had been administered the second blow and came back with blood flowing over my hand, kept my hand covering my head, and tried to pedal on. Well, I couldn’t get free of that bird; he came at me again with equal vigor as before, even though I was now clear of the warning area, so much for a bird respecting the terms of its warning sign. Well, now I had to get back home. Guess what? I was south of her domain, near the South Newton fire station, so I had to get back— hand on top of head, off I go. I’m ready to run the gauntlet. I got even with the sign again, and lo and behold, my feathered friend buzzed me from the front this time. But /I made it! I’m free of that bird, and I shall not return for a very long time.
In my 70 years, I don’t believe I have ever had that experience; however, my head has been through a lot of torture in its day, and this experience only adds to an already impressive roll of war wounds. I am just recovering from a subdermal hematoma I received from a fall in which I got seven staples in my head. I also had a brain bleed, and this bird did me no favors in my eventual healing, but God is good. With each step I take, He gives me another reason to be thankful, and another reason why I must continue with Him on the way, without complaint or murmur.
𝚨nything for A Quiet LifeΩ 