Watch the Birdie -or- Head Impacts, Avian-Style

I entered the National Aviary this weekend and looked around with some trepidation... Our fine, feathered friends would be flying around loose, wouldn't they? Roosting, pecking, having the run of the place like extras in that Hitchcock movie? Sure, they would. And while I'm a big fan of nature, I also recalled what happened the last time I was in a setting such as this...

Although the memory's probably a little fuzzy due to the head impact.

Wait, I'll explain.

When I was about 14, my parents and I were vacationing in Florida, and one of our holiday splurges was visiting Parrot Jungle in Miami. The place was packed with all creatures beaked and winged. Cockatiels, toucans, parrots, parakeets, macaws... Why, this facility really knew how to give you the bird.

Now, this was also the time of the our very first camcorder. And my Pop has always been one for love of the gadgets. So this camcorder was absolutely state-of-the-art 1986-- the latest VHS technology, portable as a small suitcase, and weighing slightly less than a toddler filled with oatmeal and Ovaltine. Oh, how Pop loved that machine!

Anyway, so we followed the paths around Parrot Jungle, giving seed to these birds, gently ruffling a few feathers, and at one point I even got to hold a white cockatoo on my arm... All very cool.

Then we reached the flamingo pond. And my father decided to make his film debut.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but the Pop has always enjoyed showcasing his many talents in public places. For instance, at any keyboard or organ store in a mall-- or, you know, the music section at Best Buy-- Pop will entreat the locals to an impromptu concert of either classical music, or original freeform compositions. Just to give everyone else a taste of the good life, you know.

Well, at the flamingo pond, ol' Dad decided to demonstrate his range in acting. Because he is nothing if not versatile. So he handed me the camcorder, helped me hoist it onto my shoulder using ancient Egyptian pulley techniques, posed in front of those long-legged pink birds, and summoned his very best flamingo imitation.

The routine went on a few minutes, and so immersed was I with trying to keep this cinder block of a recording device on my shoulder, I failed to notice the creature behind me.

As I saw later from the shaky footage, the assailant was a red and blue macaw. And I call him the assailant because this macaw was apparently not nearly as impressed with my father's performance as my father was. No, somewhere along the way, he must have decided that ten minutes of this guy standing on one leg in Bermuda shorts, pretending to squawk and eat crustaceans was more than one family ever needed in their home video collection.

On that point, the macaw and I were agreed.

So somewhere between Pop's feather flapping and Pop's shifting to the other leg in true flamingo-style, the macaw leapt off the fence behind me and took flight...

A little low.

I don't know if his gauges weren't calibrated right or not, or when he prepared for ascent he just hadn't accounted for the proper airspeed, velocity, the right amount of lift, or you know, the fact that my big head was there in his path.

But we have this really interesting footage of the Pop, marred by a huge THUD as the camera-girl got struck hard in the noggin with a large swiftly-moving parrot. We hear the camera operator shriek, "OWWW! What the--?! HEY!!!!" as her vision swimmed a bit and she saw stars...

Or birdies...

And we see the perpetrator, still unyielding from the low-flying course he'd charted, skimming from my spinning head across the camera, tail-feathers sweeping over the microphone with an enthusiastic woosh.

But, you know, that's show business for you, isn't it You think you've finally made it by securing the starring role, and then you get totally upstaged by the supporting actors.

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