Lately I’ve been getting a lot of emails and online comments about some of my recent bloourg postings. In essence, most of them say either, “Stop saying things that are anti-Christian!” or “Stop saying things that are pro-Christian!”
What’s a poor blooger to do?
Being a former non-Christian leaves me with a lot of things I’d like to say to both Christians and non-Christians. And I will. (But only if everyone promises to actually read what I write, instead of reacting to what I can only assume they think I’ve written. That’d be great! Perfect! Clarity rules!)
Anyway, one time I got attacked by a giant woodpecker.
Do I sound like I’m kidding?
And this isn’t like that time my wife and I got attacked by those squirrels either. (If you care, my multi-blorb story of my wife and I’s descent into Nutty Near Nihlism starts here.) Ultimately, those squirrels, while clearly demon-possessed, blood-crazed vampire rodents, hesitated: They balked before biting.
This bird, though, had no such Contact Qualms.
To be ornithologically fastitidious, the bird that attacked me on that fateful day in the Spring of ‘77 was a Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus). Some of you may know this to be the very bird upon which (the ever-annoying) Woody Woodpecker was based. The rest of you probably have lives. (Sorry, cartoon fans! Low blow! Do count me amongst you, since I actually am! Are! Whatever!)
Except helicopters don’t have five-inch beaks so strong they can literally cut a tree in half.
On the other hand, woodpeckers don’t have rotating chopper blades. So it probably comes out about even.
The point is: Either one can kill you.
Now I’m not saying Woody Woodpeckerhead tried to kill me.
Wait. I am saying that.
I mean, he did.
And there was one terrifying moment where I was pretty sure he had succeeded.
The rest of the posts in this series are (in order):