“Did i tell you…

“Did i tell you? She’s obsessed with this skin disorder thing that birds get where they pluck out their own feathers…obsessed…it’s all over her Facebook page.”

“Ew. That’s so disturbing and random.”

“I know! I’m like what is wrong with you?”

“Seriously. Ew.”

 

I overheard this gem of a conversation while walking to the subway this morning. And I mean gem…because when you write about anthropomorphic birds, it really doesn’t get any better.

The Mayo clinic defines trichotillomania as “a disorder that involves recurrent, irresistible urges to pull out hair from your scalp, eyebrows or other areas of your body, despite trying to stop.” It can be overwhelming. I’m familiar. I can’t find the exact term for when birds do it, but it mine as well be the same. Birds, at least ones that live in houses, tend to do it when they are under stress, when they are unhappy, when they are neglected, when they are lonely, or when they are bored. In her article from the October 1996 issue of Winged Wisdom Pet Bird Magazine, Anne Johnson also speculates that “lack of early socialization, lack of exposure to change during weather and infancy, and lack of consistency in setting firm guidelines can contribute to a birds inability to cope with stress and change in a positive manner.”

It’s about prevention, discipline, and accepting change. “Prevention, discipline, acceptance. Prevention, discipline, acceptance.” The pigeon silently repeated this to himself until he realized his beak was busy tugging at the down under his wing. He kicked at nothing and then began repeating the word aloud to keep his beak occupied. For weeks now he would leave the house and walk three blocks and stop in front of the building with the signpost out front that read “Dr. Leonard Balding, PhD Psychotherapist” (the irony was not lost on this pigeon). After trying for years to stop pulling out his feathers on his own, he knew he needed professional help. It crossed his mind to take up smoking again, but what good would it be to replace one bad habit with another again? First was the nail biting, then the drinking, then the dancing, cured by the smoking, followed by the plucking. He had read that he needed to get to the root of the problem. Root. Roots. Hair. Feather. Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Smooth. Relief. Anger. Frustration. Embarrassment. Harassment. Basement. Basement apartment. No windows. Low ceilings. Low. Lonely. First home. Childhood room. Childhood plume. Plume. Feather. Pluck. Pluck. “Fuck. Maybe tomorrow.” Relief.

As he turned to walk back, he noticed a girl across the street staring at him with an obsessed look on her face. They held each other’s gaze for a few moments until she looked down and furiously started tapping away on her phone.