Ornithophobia may be the only thing that I share with Sheldon Cooper but, unlike Dr. Cooper, I haven't overcome my fear of birds.
I'm not sure if it goes all the way back to Jim Crow in "Dumbo" or the crows tormenting Scarecrow in "Wizard of Oz" but I have bad bird memories back to toddler age. Just a reel of bad bird thoughts that I can access at any time.
The memory of the mean flock of black birds that would sit in a line on the wooden fence around my Grandmother's house in northeast Arkansas is the worst. Those crazy birds would bullseye on my lace-trimmed white church socks that had been neatly folded down to my black patent leather mary janes. They'd attack and start nipping at my ankles the instant I stepped out the kitchen door.
Birds must be like cats. If you leave them alone or don't like them, they come right to you.
Just last weekend, I was casually reading on the patio when a bird landed too close to me. I told him, "Don't even think about it." Of course, in bird lingo that must mean to take three hops forward. He chirped at me and I stomped by foot. Very brave (of me.) I shooed him and hissed at him but what I really need is bird spray. Something in an aerosol can that I just spray to repel birds.