I’m afraid of birds. I know, I know, they’re not going to hurt me, they can be quite pretty, they sound so nice. Still, I’m terrified. The smaller the bird, the worse it is…I don’t know why, but this is a phobia, which is an irrational fear, so I don’t really need a reason. Mine is called ornithophobia, which leads me to believe I’m not the only one who’s got this particular hang-up.

 

My family has become accustomed to my little fear. I hate going in the garage, for example, because these two EVIL wrens have made a nest there and swoop at my head, which makes me scream and run out into the driveway like a little girl. The hummingbird who visits the hanging plants on my porch is cause for great concern…I lurch out of my chair, full of exclamations… “Did you SEE that? It came so close to my head! Good God! What is WRONG with that thing? Do you think it has rabies?” I can’t go into the barn down the street, even though I love horses, because the barn swallows are out to get me. When I was about ten, a robin flew down our chimney and into the house, and though my father commanded me to open some windows to help it escape, I chose to huddle under the kitchen table and laugh maniacally.

 

Baby birds are the most terrifying to me…should I come upon a baby bird who’s fallen from the nest, I feel bad, I really do. And I may even try to rehabilitate it…it’s just that my teeth chatter and my hands shake. Those little suckers are ugly! The bulging bluish eyes, the huge beak, those nasty, naked wings…but I can’t just leave it there, either. Thankfully, my children have finally aged enough that they can handle this, should the need arise.

 

In the tradition of “know thy enemy,” I can recognize most of the birds in the area. I even have a bird feeder, because I do like birds (from a safe distance). My copy of the Audubon guide is quite well worn. Bigger birds, like owls and seagulls, don’t bother me a bit. I love Canada geese, for example, and feed them from hand at a nearby pond. I love birds of prey, as they’re so regal and beautiful. But should a sparrow fly into the window, I tend to do what I think of as the “shriek and flee” — I scream, often spitting coffee as I do, then run into the bathroom to hide until my children reassure me that the big bad birdie is gone. Speaking of Big Bird…he was never one of my favorites. (Just for the record, Ernie is my #1).

 

There are hundreds of strange phobias. We’ve all heard of claustrophobia, of course, and maybe arachnophobia…but how about some of these?

 

Porphyrophobia…the fear of the color purple. I wonder what happens when you encounter someone wearing that color…

Odontophobia… fear of teeth. Hard to avoid teeth, I would think, given that most of us have teeth…

Philemaphobia…fear of kissing. Glad I don’t have that one.

Lutraphobia…fear of otters. Come on. Otters are cute. Of course, people may say that about birds, too…

Rhytiphobia…fear of getting wrinkles. There’s a whole industry based on this one. Makes me glad I live in New England, where wrinkles are still considered something that give your face character.

Pnigerophobia…fear of being smothered. I’m sorry. Don’t we all fear being smothered? That doesn’t seem too irrational to me…

 

Do you have a phobia? Have you tried to overcome it, or do you just accept it and avoid that thing that gives you the heebie-jeebies?