{The Hitchcock Weekend}

Apparently, warm weather in Scotland is for the birds. Specifically, the black-faced gulls, the moorhens, the swallows and the swifts.

In the course of seeing wild animals from around the world – rhinos, lions, elephants and the like — walking around a park and otherwise enjoying the balmy weather on the weekend, I was seriously accosted by:

a.) a goose,

b.) a kestrel,

c.) a peacock,

d.) a duck, and

e.) a seagull

…at one point or another at the safari park where we went this weekend. All I can blame it on is that it was a broiling 78°F, and it seemed that everyone in Alba was outside, half naked, and grilling something.

I think the birds were somewhat resentful of this.

I tried to explain that I was a vegetarian.

It did me no good.

The kestrel was allegedly only doing its job, entertaining the crowd at a bird of prey show. It swooped through the crowd, leaving nervous shrieks in its wake, as it neatly skimmed the heads of many of us, zipping and banking and doubling back like a teensy stealth missile with a deadly hooked beak and talons. We were all bent double with our hands over our heads by the time it decided to return to its perch. The little bugger. Must’ve had its Wheaties that morning. (Or the bleeding equivalent.)

The peacock I’d mistaken for a wad of feathers and twigs in the top of a tree. I figured it was a faraway nest… until it moved. And moved again. And then fell fluttered, in the worst parody of flight I’ve ever seen, out of the tree and landed a little way away from me. And proceeded to stalk toward me. With intent.

It was… a bit unnerving. I always thought peacocks were scared of people. Apparently not.

The duck and the gull had the mistaken idea I was interested in feeding them. I explained that wasn’t going to happen. The goose was the only one that insisted.

I actually scared off the goose for a few seconds, because I mistook it for a duck.

I must explain: Ducks are occasionally… obnoxious. How many times have I seen small siblings and other children overwhelmed at the marina back home, when feeding ducks, by a sudden bum rush of all the ducks in the pond, plus seagulls? We all got used to shoo-ing them, and I was confident as I loudly berated the pair of large white birds stalking our picnic table. I ignored the sideways looks the one closest was giving me. “GO,” I told it. “YOU ARE BEING RUDE.” It backed up a single step.

I felt like I’d achieved some measure of success, and sat down and ate my lunch, keeping a wary eye out, and occasionally reinforcing my message with a brisk, “SHOO.” And then, the ducks came waddling out of the river. And I had a basis for comparison. (Yeah, yeah, I know we had ducks when I was a kid. That was a long time ago… and I seriously just wanted it to go away so I could eat. I admit to not really paying attention…) I realized that either the white “duck” must be the largest duck on the planet, or….

Geese, according to D., and my vet friend Jess, are generally evil, and will chase you, hiss, and “bite.” Jess dislikes Canadian geese, and D. was chased at the age of five by the regular barnyard variety. I’ve not had a bad experience with geese, but having heard so many horror stories, I would have been careful, if I’d bothered to look at the bird closely.

It worked out, though — I was aggressive and verbal, and the goose clearly thought I was insane.

Works for me.

*I have ZERO idea what that bird with the orange beak might be. Moorhens have orange beaks, but they look hennish. This thing does not. I therefore must conclude it is just another bird who was stalking me, trying to get mentioned in my blog.