Ornithophobia

Sitting on my mattress, I took a deep breath and finally unfurled myself from the fetal position. After pacing for a little while, I considered myself to be mentally prepared, or at least as prepared as I could hope to be. I laced up my tennis shoes, donned my rain jacket, and grabbed my automatic umbrella. Slowly, I opened my door and peered out into the darkened common room of my shared flat. Sensing no movement, I knew that my adversary was still in the kitchen. As I inched the kitchen door open, I poked my umbrella through the gap, prepared to hit the open button at any moment. A few seconds later, after surveying the situation, I breathed a sigh of relief. I then dashed to the balcony door and slammed it shut.

About a half an hour before this little episode, I had just finished cleaning up after having cooked my lunch. The kitchen heats up rather quickly when one uses the stove; so as usual, I opened the balcony door to let in some air. A few moments later, having gone to my room to retrieve a book, I heard a strange fluttering noise. To my chagrin, a little black and white bird hoped into view on the other side of the kitchen door. Bypassing my first instinct to scream and run, I pulled the kitchen door shut, shut all the doors to my housemates' rooms, and then ran into my own.

Let's take a little time out from the story here. I like to think that I try my hardest to overcome my fears and insecurities and face up to situations that make me uncomfortable. However, faced with one of my worst fears, I quickly regressed into a childlike state. For years, birds (any type except for ducks and penguins) have been a beacon of terror in my life. They are everywhere. They swoop down from the sky into your face. They carry numerous diseases. They poop on your head while you in a meeting with a bunch of people you have never met. All things considered, this fear of mine is completely rational. Really, watch Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. Completely rational.

So what was my reaction as I sat in the corner of my room listening to the little vermin hop around the kitchen? I checked the clock to see if it was too early to call my mother back in America. To my delight, she was driving to work. After about ten minutes, Mama managed to calm me down and helped me to face the fact that I couldn't sit in my room until one of my housemates came home.

Clearly I am not as brave as I like to think myself. So I have a new goal for my time in Switzerland: it is time to overcome my little problem of ornithophobia.

As I was walking through the park next to my apartment a little later, there was a man sitting on one of the benches. Surrounded by birds, he had two pigeons on his left leg and numerous birds flocking to the breadcrumbs he was pulling out of a bag. For a moment, I paused and considered sitting down next to him. "Hallo, ich heiße Hilary und ich habe Angst für Vögel. Könnten Sie mir bitte helfen um mein Angst überzuwinden?"

But I decided baby steps are probably better. Perhaps I should start with simply not flinching when one flies by me.