I’m Afraid of Those Lovable Creatures We Call Birds | Teen Ink

I’m Afraid of Those Lovable Creatures We Call Birds

February 13, 2015
By PHILosophical BRONZE, Paramus, New Jersey
PHILosophical BRONZE, Paramus, New Jersey
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I had a dream of my wife. She was dead. But it was all right."
-Max Payne


Within our well-established human society, the sight of a bird is nothing more than an everyday occurrence. It doesn’t seem to bother us one bit when the avians amass in considerable numbers in our parks and on our roofs. We’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that the birds are in amicable terms with people. However, based on my observations over the years of birds, I have deduced, according to basic rationality, that the avians of the world are plotting against us with the intention of superimposing over humanity a new bird order.


Civilization’s roads and buildings have often staked out a boundary between humanity and the rest of the animal kingdom, which is evident in the usual absence of any of the land’s original inhabitants. In my suburban town, deer and bears are unusual spectacles that sometimes wander too far into the established borders of society. On the contrary, birds have adapted to the change in the landscape. They were here when the soil was untarnished and when the tallest structures were time-defying trees; they are still here when that same soil is brimming with pesticides and when impossibly tall skyscrapers pierce the clouds. Birds adapt almost as well as we do, but they have been keen enough to maintain friendly relations with our species.


Or so we think.


Firstly, my observations have focused solely on the relationship between birds and humans. The first signs of avian scheming have been around us all this time, but we were always too habituated to their presence to realize the hidden purpose.

 

I. Spies in Plain Sight

The phrase, “hidden in plain sight,” has become a stock phrase among detectives and authors. Reverse logic tells us that clever spies make use of unassuming pretenses: their facades are too obvious to suspect. It is a tested means for government operatives and secret agents to blend into the crowds they infiltrate.


However, spy movies and literature have turned the unexpected turn to the obvious into a predictable cliche… which is why the birds have us fooled. By reverse-reverse-logic, we hardly expect spies to hide in plain sight, because everyone knows they will do so. It’s been done too many times. We reason, “But they would be smarter than that”––we underestimate the birds’ understanding of the human psyche––“So they would choose an unpredictable method.”


Crows flock by our playgrounds; pigeons gather on ledges and telephone poles; robins perch on porches and roofs. They don’t even think about hiding in the foliage (not unless they are threatened). In the best vantage points, they have eyes on us everywhere. Just normal bird behavior, my contemporaries say. Little do they realize, we have revealed ourselves to the birds; we never stopped to think about how much valuable intelligence they gained from watching us. Our society has been successfully infiltrated on a wide level––  more so than meets the eye.


II. How to Train Humans

Bird-loving skeptics, animal activists, and ornithologists will probably dismiss my claims and laugh at my paranoia. It seems they have fallen under the mindset birds have conditioned us to follow. In subtle ways, the birds are training us to be servile and submissive.


Take for instance the standard reaction to a mother duck and her ducklings. Their walks become something sacred, and we stop any activities that may bring them harm or impede their progress. Drivers, who have a notorious reputation for hardly stopping for pedestrians (especially in New Jersey), suddenly find a need to hit the brakes as soon as a school of ducklings crosses the street. Am I the only one who is frightened by the fact that our drivers care more about ducklings than they do about school kids? Little do we realize that we are being tested and conformed to their desires. The ducks are only instructors on the local level for a nationwide campaign.


For decades, the birds have been creating loyalist factions among us–– chiefly the various animal rights groups and bird fan clubs. However, their training has had much more far-reaching effects on American society. Many of the songbirds are held in high regard with words like “cute” and “innocent.” We can’t get enough of the tiny chickadee or the curious blue jay. They hold the fascination of the American public, so much so that we cannot help but provide them luxurious accommodations like bird feeders and bird houses. Meanwhile, their images are perpetrated through our culture as state birds, merchandise, and even sports teams.


Our most creative minds have been responsible for furthering avian interests through their incorporation of birds in literature and songs. Perhaps the greatest benefactor of bird sympathy is Harper Lee, whose To Kill a Mockingbird portrayed the mockingbird as a benevolent, innocent critter. One of the book’s main characters, Atticus Finch, speaks against killing mockingbirds, because, as he states, “they don't do one thing for us but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us.” It should alarm us that our outlets for imagination have been infiltrated by the birds, transformed into subliminal propaganda. I hardly think Harper Lee was aware of his indoctrination at the time; none of us up to now have ever noticed.


It has gotten to the point where any transgression against the birds, songbirds especially, is considered an ignominious crime. In fact, our government has outlawed the killing, capture, or sale of over 800 species in the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918. This federal law in the U.S. was followed up over the years by similar statutes in Mexico, Japan, and the former Soviet Union. Their training us has nearly reached completion. I daresay that should the birds launch a surprise attack on us, we would hesitate to fight back or believe our “cute critters” were never our friends.

 

III. This is Their Land, Not Ours

For the past few springs, my household has been targeted by a family of American robins, the orange-belly songbirds. They have returned several years now in succession to make a nest on top of my garage; I know this much is true, because the same couple always scouts and occupies the front yard. I have made two attempts already to drive them away by destroying the nests before they can lay eggs. Nevertheless, they just return the next year to try again.


The robins seem to believe that my household is their property. I would argue my claim to the land in court, yet I cannot exactly bring a bird to court or sue it for that matter. The robins who have taken a liking to my garage display a sense of ownership that holds priority over our claims. Anyone who has thought of picnicking where there are seagulls would know what I mean: nothing is off limits for them. They rob us of our hard-earned bread; they collect shiny objects and other valuables to carry off for their entertainment; they eat up our crops. The birds, no matter whether they are considered pests or pets, behave like kings!


Our training inhibits us from properly addressing their rude violation of human claims to property. We would sooner acquiesce to the offending bird than take direct action against it. Such accommodationism isn’t dissimilar to British and French accommodationism to Nazi Germany in World War II. To elaborate, the strongest European powers did nothing to punish Germany even after it had remilitarized, annexed Austria and Czechoslovakia, and invaded Poland. The following expansion of the fascist state in that war should have taught us why inaction feeds into the confidence of the aggressor. By now, the birds would’ve come to the belief that we were weak and complaisant–– the stage was set for the next blitzkrieg.

 

IV. The Invasion is Not Impending. It’s Already Underway.

My contemporaries call me absurd and say that no one would ever agree with me. To that I say two things: one, I am an expert and two, I am not alone in my beliefs.


One of the first to envision the birds’ master plan was none other than the legendary director, Alfred Hitchcock. His film, The Birds (1963), was not only a suspenseful horror but also a warning about the threat that birds pose on our society. In the movie, a sleepy town called Bodega Bay comes under siege by a combined avian army: no children, adults, or main protagonists were spared in this brutal assault. Hitchcock’s warning was merely regarded as entertainment, however, by the American public.


His predictions of how the attacks would take place were far from accurate. In the film, the birds were vicious and relentless, swooping in on the town entire with little subtlety in mind. Some literally kamikaze themselves in attempts to kill humans. Open-day assaults don’t befit the birds; it would be foolish and costly for them to take an Angry Birds approach to world domination. They’ve trained themselves to be infiltrators, masters of subtle, non-self-destructive warfare. For all we have done to pester and annoy them, we will not see the wrath of feathered nature anytime soon. Our punishment will be more severe.


The birds are already prevalent in our culture, having secured themselves a loyal following and a reputation for innocence. They’re expert anthropologists, having observed human behavior for innumerable years. They’ve coerced us into a submissive position and firmly rooted themselves in our government–– a beak to whisper into the ears of our leaders. Without even realizing it, we’ve already been invaded. Our nation is well within capitulating to the birds–– all without a single human noticing (besides me and Hitchcock).

 

V. Fighting Back the New Bird Order

Don’t panic. It’s not too late. We still have a chance to fight back, to prevent a fate so bleak for humanity that it would make the Terminator franchise’s apocalypse an optimistic outlook for the future. The birds may have our government and our minds firmly in their claws, yet we still have the greatest weapon of all: Hollywood.


We can fight back with movies. The sci-fi films have prepared us for the possibility of self-aware AI and alien invasion; now, we need blockbusters, on par with The Birds, to raise public awareness of the feathered menace! The resistance is only a fledgling movement at the moment; however, once the blockbusters begin revealing the birds’ secret plot for world domination, America will wake up and start turning back the tide.


In conclusion, we must rustle the feathers of society, put our creative eggheads to use in public awareness campaigns, and wing it in a massive uprising before the early bird gets the worm.



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