Nonfiction | April 16, 2024

The Birds 

In the middle of watching Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds with my family in our basement TV room, circa 1969, when I was nine, I was sent to the unfinished part of the cellar to get a bottle of soda. I opened the door and stepped into the dark, waving my hands to feel for the pull-string lightbulb in the middle of the room. Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind and shouted, “THE BIRDS!” It was my father, who’d followed me, laughing now along with my siblings, holding me as I flailed at him with my fists, angry and crying, embarrassed about being frightened. 

The film itself was terrifying, the crows landing one by one on the swings and jungle bars on the playground, now five, now seven, now dozens, cackling menacingly as the teacher, Miss Annie, quietly gathered the children for a “fire drill,” she told them; the school’s large windows left them vulnerable to birds crashing into their classroom. The children were to walk home or to the diner, but as soon as they were outside, the birds attacked. One girl fell and shattered her eyeglasses, birds converging on her body until Melanie, the main character played by Tippi Hedren, ushered the girl to safety inside a car. Later, Melanie and Rod, Melanie’s love interest, find Miss Annie’s body sprawled on the front steps, her eyes pecked out.