The Tale of a Scary Sparrow

About a week ago I was out in my front yard doing some weeding, dead-heading, etc. I thought I heard a little squawk or something so I happened to glance over and…


(awkward leaping back out of the flower bed with flailing arms)

A bird.

A demon bird.

A possessed demon bird.

It stood a foot or two away from where I’d been weeding a few moments before.

Staring me down.  Something was weird about its eyes.

It held its ground, not appearing to be even slightly startled by me.

I told myself that perhaps this bird had a nest nearby to defend.

Yes, that’s it. A nest.

A little shaken, I went to another part of my front yard for a while, and then returned to the spot near the demon bird’s territory. I was about to start dead-heading a clump of carnations when…


(frantic attempt to create as much distance between me and that clump of carnations followed by an involuntary shudder)

The bird.

The demon bird.



I almost did a Jeanie Bueller-inspired prance around my front yard.


But I had the presence of mind to notice that someone was walking their dog past my house just as demon bird made its second appearance.

Keep it together, Lindsey.

After I’d pulled myself together somewhat, I decided to investigate further. I crept over to the carnation clump, watching carefully for the bird with the devil eyes.

He wasn’t where I’d left him.

Anxiety coursed through my body.

I just knew he was going to appear right beside me out of nowhere all over again.

I scanned the area, but couldn’t see him.

So I went inside to my husband and told him of the sneaky demon bird. When I was done, he said, “Hmm, that’s weird.”

“No,” I told him. “You don’t understand. He’s evil. Come look for him.”

The demon bird chose to stay concealed while my husband searched.
This demon bird is not in my head. It’s real. And it’s evil.

After he went back inside I went to put some things away in the shed. I locked it, then as I walked away I realized I’d forgotten to leave my work gloves in the shed. I doubled back to put them away, and just as I reached the shed door I saw it.

The bird.

The demon bird.

A small, menacing figure looming about 10 feet away.

It was a little too close for comfort, and yet a little too far away to feel justified in avoiding the shed.

I took a deep breath and fumblingly unlocked the padlock, got the door open, then darted inside.

Then it occurred to me.

What if he followed me into the shed? Or worse:  barricaded me in there?

I dropped my gloves and then poked my head out the door to get a visual on the demon bird.

He hadn’t moved.

I exited the shed, and once again fumbled with the padlock, all the while keeping one eye fixed on the demon bird.

I entered the house and urgently announced that the demon bird had returned once again. 

I took my husband to the spot and the bird was still there. The bird watched as my husband approached, but stood its ground. My husband tossed a small rock at the bird’s feet, and it didn’t even flinch.

Possessed, I tell ya.

My husband guessed it was sick–got into some poison or something–and assured me a cat would probably get to it by the next day.

I’m still ultra cautious around demon bird ground zero. Because who knows if the demon bird is still kicking around.

Or maybe now there’s a demon cat making the rounds now.


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