A Simple Look at a Not-So-Simple Life

Frisky Bird

I was asked to tell a little more about item #6 on my “Ten Things” list. The story is a bit too long for the comment section, so here it is:

I was in Miami with another pastor friend attending a Church Redevelopment Conference. We walked down to the open air market on the bay for a little sightseeing and fresh air. We happened upon an outdoor kiosk where a man would take your picture with his tropical birds – $5 would buy you a Polaroid memory. The birds were beautiful. Since I’m not much of a bird expert, I can’t tell you what kind they were, only that they were large and very, very colorful.

I stopped to admire the birds. The man asked if I wanted to have a picture made with them. I declined and began to move away. He called me back and asked if I would like to hold one of the birds. Sure! So he had me hold up my arm for a perch and placed the bird on my forearm. I was surprised at how heavy it was! Then he asked if I wanted to hold the other bird, too. I told him that I wasn’t sure I wanted to hold them both, but he shushed me and turned the second bird over on its back and had me cradle it in my free arm like a baby.

So here I stand in the middle of an open air market, one bird perched on my right forearm, another cradled against me in my left arm. Then it happened. The cradled bird began to, ummm, let’s say it began to try to nurse me – roughly! There was nothing I could do!

My friend doubled over in laughter. The man stood there with an expression that was a mixture of triumph and amusement. A small crowd began to gather. And there I stood. After a brief moment (that seemed like an eternity to me), the man lifted the frisky bird from my embrace and said to it, “Sorry, friend. No booby today!”

My advice to other gullible women out there: if you aren’t going to spring for the photo, don’t hold the birds!!!


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3 thoughts on “Frisky Bird

  1. Many years ago, I was driving my oldest (then only) to a summer theatre camp performance with a same-age friend. They must have been about 4 or so. The younger sister of the other boy was with us. The boys were horsing around, and she kept saying with the utter seriousness only a two-year-old can muster, “That not funny.”
    Later, at the performance, she was sitting on my lap and evidently found something amusing. Again, with utter seriousness of expression, she looked me in the eye and said, “*THAT* funny.”
    Preacher Mom, *THAT* funny.

  2. Momma always warned me about southern gentlemen, er birds.

  3. Oh, man! What a hoot!

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