When a seagull used me for target practice
sony a7C ii | 85mm f/1.4 GMii
f/1.4 | 1/4000s | ISO 100
My inner 8th grade self holds tightly to this memory. Our class had taken a scenic trip to a local seaside town whose name I cannot recall. Southern California is filled with lovely coastal adventures. Ah, we were meant to visit a marine life aquarium. Yes, that was it.
I have pictures of my besties Sara and Alexis and a bright eyed young Jennifer exploring all sorts of colorful tide pools with creatures of all shapes, shades, and textures. But what I remember most is the terror and embarrassment of being the recipient of a seagull’s most immaculate aim.
I screamed as white sludge slid down the front of my chest, staining my spaghetti strap tank. Of course it is middle school and middle schoolers are not always known for being the most empathetic of humans. I became quite the spectacle and center of attention that I indeed did not desire to hold. It can be hard to hold a teenager’s attention. Not so much in a situation such as this.
I’d like to say that that moment then began my villain arc as “she who hates birds,” but that actually began quite a few years earlier when my grandmother’s parrot escaped its cage and decided it would be quite fun to chase me around the rust brown 70s carpeted living room of my grandparent’s house in Reseda. Was I a ‘Valley Girl’? Yes, indeed.
Now this ‘Valley Girl’ is quite a bit further in her avian villain arc. I love photographing birds from afar, but when they come near me, I transform into quite a different character.
The other day some lovely hummingbirds came to visit my impressive patch of fully blooming ‘Lucifer’ Crocosmias. They are quite a sight to behold. I definitely did not complain when my next door neighbors decided to add some to their front landscape after seeing mine. In fact, they put a lovely hummingbird feeder right in the middle of theirs so that they can have a front row view of when the creatures come to visit.
As I was standing in my driveway this week chatting with my husband I screamed (yes, full on screeched) as a motorcycle raced briskly past my ear. Well. I thought it was a motorcycle greatly off course. It was instead just a hummingbird. If your head has ever been within five inches of a hummingbird racing in the air I think you would agree with me that ‘just’ is most definitely an understatement. My poor neighbor came dashing out of their driveway at my distress and all I could do was nervously laugh about the cute little bird that scared the living daylights out of me. To be honest, though, I kind of did invite them to dine on my vibrant florals dripping with sweet nectar. So that sounds like it is probably a ‘me’ problem.
That’s the thing. I really struggle when things feel out of my control — when life zooms by too fast and unexpectedly or decides to gift my shoulder a dripping mass of bodily waste. But as I have continued to journey on this villain (ahem, I mean) hero arc we call life, I have had to learn how to deal with twists, turns, and unexpected detours.
So I control what I can control (although there are only so many times one can declutter a closet) and try to learn to adapt. To be like the tree my yoga teacher keeps telling me be, bending in the wind and getting stronger as it digs its roots deeper.
I’d like to say I’ve gotten really good at it, but I’m too honest to say such a falsehood. What I’ll say is that I’ve learned to cultivate a toolbox of helping coping mechanisms to help me keep going when I can’t see that “two steps forward and one step back” repeated adds up to being slow but still steady progress.
In my house we talk a lot about progress versus perfection. That in our family we prioritize a growth mindset over getting something right the first time. And don’t let perfection be the enemy of ‘done.’
So I guess I’ll say that dealing with unexpected change is not my strong suit. … Yet. But I’m definitely closer than I was when a seagull pooped on my shoulder during a class trip in the 8th grade.
