When You Accidentally Walk into an Alfred Hitchcock Movie

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We lived an Alfred Hitchcock move.

In December, the family decided that we would take a relaxing trip down to warmer climates. My home state had ice storms in the forecast. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Winter is for polar bears and penguins. Since I’m neither, I migrated.

Our journey brought us to Mississippi right along the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. Our tropical excursion brought us to shops, cultural foods, and, most importantly, the beach.

This sounds like the perfect way to spend a winter day, no?

Another family thought so as well, except they were more of the psychotic nature. I swear they practiced some form of witchcraft to bring forth the apocalypse.

Let me explain.

While we were dipping our bare toes in the cool ocean water enjoying the sun pouring in from the clear blue skies, this other family brought in a sacrifice of whole grain breads, and began this horrible, satanic chant. I can still hear their cacophonic (How’s that for a word choice?) voices echoing in my memories.

“Here Birdie, Birdie. Here Birdie, Birdie.”

A shudder as I type out these lines.

They began to spread out their sacrifice in what could only be described as a summoning circle while their chants grew all the more vehement.

The skies began to darken. The war cries of a demon legion rose up in the atmosphere. The very hairs on the back of my neck began to raise reacting to the wicked energy in the air. Where there once had been clear blue spread out in every direction there was now replaced with white.

Birds. Thank you Alfred Hitchcock for giving us the fearful respect for these creature that they deserve.

Seagulls dive bombed from the sky to scoop up the bread chunks. They grabbed pieces midair and from hands ready to throw. A piece was placed on my head as well by an evil child. It didn’t stay there long.

I do not exaggerate when I say there were at least 150 Seagulls (and one pigeon) that were previously nowhere to be seen.

The moral of this story?

Do not feed the wildlife if you value your own life.

Second moral?

Live your life. Have experiences. Create yourself a story that you can tell for ages. Don’t let the winter (physical and metaphorical) keep you from making memories with your friends and family.

As long as you get out of your house, and put your cell phones down for a moment, things will happen naturally. We didn’t plan on getting attacked by birds. But going to the beach allowed for us to be there to experience another family’s tradition of feeding the gulls every year.

The story may be funny for everyone to read, but it is a lifelong memory for my kids and I to enjoy.

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