Need a cure for ornithiphobia? Don't ask me.

Those of you who follow me on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter would already have seen this photo. I snapped it part way through my weekly run to work.

Nice isn't it?

I have a confession to make. 

Taking this photo got my heart rate up more than the run did. I think I'm ornithophobic. While sneaking up to take photos like this might be considered therapy, I don't think my fear of birds is going anywhere, anytime soon.

I don't know where this fear stemmed from but being swooped by plovers, smashed by magpies, and crapped on by unknown culprits certainly hasn't helped.

A couple of months back I went out for an afternoon run and came back traumatised. I ended up on the wrong side of a small waterway. The bike path ran out as I passed under a bridge but rather than double back I pressed on across precariously slippery rocks. After all, I'm an ultra trail runner. I laugh on the face of mud and uneven terrain!

I do not, however, laugh in the face of a crow picking away at some kind of carcass.

It troubles me greatly to recount that this was exactly what I encountered next.

I must have startled the crow, and the pigeon, who was also feasting away on something half dead.

(Well, I did scream out loud. I probably startled half the suburb.)

The next thing I knew the pigeon was flying straight at me, with part of the 'something half dead' hanging out of it's revolting little beak.

You guessed it. The part of 'something half dead' ended up on me. So I screamed again, flailed around a bit in the hope that the dead thing's entrails ended up somewhere else. They did but I still had the remnants of blood on my legs and arm. I think I screamed out loud again.

I ran the few ks home, holding it together, kind of. Finally, I reached home, and sobbed uncontrollably as I pulled off off my muddy shoes at the front door.

KKB didn't ask any questions. He tried to hug me but I stopped him. We didn't both need 'something half dead' entrails on us. I took off my running clothes before getting into a nice hot shower.

Hot.

Entrail free.

Bird free.

I decided then and there that if the rest of my life was bird free, then that would be pretty OK, actually.

And not much has changed since.