Saturday, June 19, 2010

I Am The Duck Wheesperer

Yes, it's true.

A few weeks ago, I was on my way home from work. Long, hard day on a construction site.
Bleh. Sore feet. Crowded train ride home. Torrential downpour as soon as I left the train.

Outside the station, a confused mother duck and her eight baby ducklings crowded the bottom of the escalator. People stepped over them and pointed, amused. I stopped and looked at her. She looked at me, I swear, with a pure expression of panic.... and headed straight into the roadway, across a major intersection, with the ducklings in tow.

Well.

Can't let certain death happen.

I followed, unfurling my umbrella, and waved the traffic to a complete stop during rush hour, herding a panicked duck and her ducklings across four lanes of traffic, windmilling and waving about my arms, into the parking lot of the mall across the street.

I had to stop several times and scoop the ducklings into the umbrella to get them over the curbs.

All the drivers stopped, pointed, and clapped, as I got them across the street.

Good thing I was wearing my bright cycling rain jacket.

Once into the parking lot, some fascinated teenagers took over and continued herding them into a safe corner of the parking lot while I called the local animal control, who promptly came and returned them to the nearby wildlife park.

Whoo.

I felt kind of good about that.

Yes. I am the Duck Wheesperer.
Today, while at work on a huge construction site, at the end of the day,

we found a pigeon near our workbox as we finished our long, tiring workday.

I need to point out that I am one of only 5 women on this job site of over two hundred men.

We were near an open door to outside. Obviously this poor bird had become confused, and was flapping along near the windows, trying to get back outside.

It didn't seem entirely well as it never took flight.

As my 3 male coworkers looked on, I had them bring me a sheet of newspaper, so I could scoop up the confused pigeon and return it outside.

This took some doing, but I remembered my Duck Wheesperer saga, and spoke to the ill bird, saying, "Come on, girlie, let's go".

I gathered it up in the newspaper.

I took it to the outside door. I set it down. "Fly, birdie, fly!" I said, or something along those lines. She staggered away, and turned and looked at the open doorway. I stomped my foot, trying to shoo her into flight. Nope. She just looked at me. Oh well, I had gotten her outside, away from heavy machinery, no water, no food, and certain death.

I returned inside, shutting the door firmly behind me, my coworkers watching.

I turned to look at the bird...

Just as a huge, mature seagull landed,

and went straight for the pigeon, murder clearly written on it's face

and it stabbed its beak directly at the pigeon's neck
and
grabbed hold.

Oh dear.

Feathers flew. The pigeon squawked, then hung limply as the seagull shook it about, dropped it, and then stabbed at it again.

My coworkers, horrified, screamed, "You! You killed that bird! Good lord! You are a pigeon killer! Bird murderer!" They pointed their fingers at me and continued to loudly bemoan that poor bird's fate.

I turned back, mute, and watched as that seagull savaged the pigeon. A crow alighted to watch, and patiently wait for its turn.

"Oh my god," I said, "I am a bird murderer."

There were feathers flying everywhere.

She flapped her wings, that pigeon, weakly.

Ack.

Maybe that's why it had come inside, to escape the killer seagull.

The guys continued their hearty derision, obviously thoroughly enjoying themselves, and I tried to stand up for myself,
until I had enough and hung my head, which quietened them...
and we all watched for a while, as the seagull shook that bird,
feathers flying, and, well,

I felt awful. I had to turn away.

I walked towards the elevator leading out of the building, completely demoralized....

listening to my coworkers continue to tease me.... I walked faster, ahead of them.

I got in the elevator to get down to the main floor. Some iron-workers were already standing in the elevator. I hung my head.

"What's wrong with you?" they asked.

"I killed a pigeon!" I said, my face still red,
and told them the story.

Honestly, some times I am SUCH an IDJIOT.

As I left the elevator, they said,

"Cooo! Cooo!"

Bastards.

And then they laughed.