OK… ‘attacked’ might be too strong a word. But a small parrot insisted on reprising the role from the children’s book – Are You My Mother? – by dive-bombing me on the way to work. I ducked and then turned around to look where the little guy had gone. As I turned around, I heard a scream and looked to see a woman pointing at me. About that time I heard a rustling on my neck and realized the parrot had landed on me and was perched on the back collar of my jacket. I tried to shake him off, but he was bound and determined to latch on to me.

I have to confess, as much as I like animals, birds in close proximity tend to freak me out. The wings flapping and sharp, pointy beaks do not endear me to the avian species. As I shook my coat and tried to sweep him away, he insisted on flapping about and hopping from my neck to my shoulder to my back.

Finally, the parrot gave up and flitted to a nearby tree. He eyed me with what had to have been bird disdain and then resigned himself to chirping on the branch. I peered up at him and then glanced around my surroundings. Where could he have come from? He had to have been lost. I was across from the hospital where I work and next to the library and a school – none of which would be home to a small parrot.

Other people came to gather around the tree and discussed what could be done, and I slunk off – guilty of not rescuing the little guy and a little worried that the back of my jacket might be marked with his fear.