Crazy blackbird attacks

Yesterday, I woke up with one of those stupid 1-day colds I get once in a while. I felt horrible, and by noon I needed meds. I pack up and drive to the Safeway. I remember to go to the Starbucks nearby, and just as I get out of the place, something scratches my head very briefly. Everybody around me is snickering.

I look around, see nobody. I look puzzled to the cute girl sitting at a table, doing her assignments. She smiles, points to somewhere in the air and says there is a bird defending a nest.

I turn around, and indeed there is the tiniest blackbird male I have ever seen, perched on a street sign pole, looking all important. He fluffs up, picks a flea or two from his plumage, turns around and stares hatefully at passers-by.

I walk again, same direction as before, and promptly I have a bird in my hair. It’s just a tiny scratch, nothing that could scare you, really, but it makes the bird feel important. I will stand there, looking around for other people to pass. Promptly, the little blackbird will attack: swoop in from behind (he’s a bit of a cowards that way). Now we can see Lady Blackbird (who’s actually brown, of course) hopping in the bush, all proud of her husband.

I checked how courageous the little bird is and walked again in the same direction. At the point where I knew he was going to attack, I turned around and held my hand up high. He immediately stopped in mid-air and flew back to his perch, wounded in his manhood.