Face It

I have been afraid of birds of prey all my life; I know about as much about them as I do about breast uplift surgery. It’s for good reason, of course. Look them up on the internet if you need some reassurance (birds, I mean, not breasts). I suggest a nice close-up shot of a malicious beak and those terrible, evil eyes. Anyone who says that birds of prey are majestic and wonderful creatures clearly has something wrong with them: they are nothing but evil! I know this because I recently underwent a horrific experience with a number of them. Yes, I said a number. One would have been enough but no, I had to deal with ten.

It was my friend’s idea. He wanted to scare me out of my phobia, but sadly it had the opposite effect.

We arrived at the garden centre early. There was to be a The Majestic birds of prey sort of gathering, and members of the public would be allowed near enough to the evil ones to touch them.

Oh God.

“You sure about this?” I said. “I mean, they look bloody vicious.”

The first bird of prey handler man called over, “want to meet my hawk? His name’s Barry and he’s usually very gentle and loving.”

“Usually–” I groaned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this–”

We went over. I was quivering like a great big nervous wreck.

“Want to hold Barry?” asked the man.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Does Barry want to be held? He looks like he quite likes your arm so why unsettle him?”

Before I knew it Barry was making a b line for my face, his great big yellow jaws opening around my nose.

“Well I’ve never seen that before!” said the handler once I’d stopped shaking and could just about stand up. “Well, I’m sure it was a one-off”.

Except it wasn’t. Clearly Barry had told the others to get me. Again and again it happened, until I was shaken and in a bad way.

My advice? Don’t face your fears, because they will be quite fine on their own.