Some phobias are for the birds

Anyone who has raised a child knows that they grow up having fears and phobias — from eating anything green to touching worms.

When our daughter, Melissa, was about 3, we lived in the Cottonwood area of Salt Lake City just above the Van Winkle Expressway.

If ever a fire engine came screeching up the expressway I knew within seconds Melissa would be standing in front of me. She wouldn't say a word, and after a few minutes she would run back out to play.

At 8 years old our son Jim walked in on the Michael Jackson "Thriller" video his college-bound brother, Tom, was watching just as Michael was morphing into a werewolf.

For a long time my husband, Grit, and I had to take turns sitting in the hall every night until he fell asleep.

The recent 24-hour coverage of Michael Jackson's death, however, did not make Jim revert, and he has grown up quite normal … in spite of that terror.

I, however, am still dealing with one of mine — ornithophobia, a fear of birds.

Seriously! I, a grown woman and grandmother of 23, run from seagulls at the beach or scream when a bird flies out of a bush and swoops too close.

You probably aren't aware how many advertisements on television have birds in them — birds with outspread wings, birds with beaks and beady eyes, birds with talons. They creep me out totally!

The story goes that when I was 2 years old, my family was living in a little house up the road from my grandparents' farm where, as a hobby, my dad raised chickens and bunnies.

I would go out to watch the animals, often tormenting the rooster by pulling his tail feathers and such.

One day he flew at me, flapping his wings and pecking at my eyes and clawing. Fortunately, my dad heard the ruckus and ran out. Sad day for that poor old rooster … we ate him for Sunday dinner.

In Provo we have a horse barn just over our backyard fence that houses two lovely horses the grandkids love to watch. There is also a chicken coop and a run that has been empty since we moved in.

We blocked the view with some trees because even thinking about the empty chicken coop bothered me.

Now, suddenly, the coop is filled with chickens. Chickens squawking and pecking and doing their chicken things. As a result I don't spend too much time in my backyard, which is, I guess, a good way to get out of gardening.

My grandchildren think the chickens are a great addition, and mind you, I like these neighbors and do not begrudge them their chickens that produce lovely eggs.

I like eating chicken and eggs; I just don't like the live bird.

My husband has always thought me silly. Well, phobias are silly, but there it is.

There are other phobias that are sillier than mine (i.e. plants, numbers and music), and while searching the Internet I found sites that offer help.

One site offered a home-study kit for $137 and $2,497 for a one-on-one VIP course. There is also hypnosis.

Which makes me think I'll stick with the Gilda Radner theory that: "I'd much rather be a woman than a man. Women can cry, they can wear cute clothes, and they are the first to be rescued off of sinking ships."

To which I add they can also run unashamedly from birds, especially if the woman is too old to change.

e-mail: sasy14@gmail.com