When people ask me what it鈥檚 like being overlooked again and again for which crowns one lucky winged d-bag with official city bird status for a year, I usually just shrug and continue to dine on a freshly killed vole or rabbit.
After all, these kinds of popularity contests are meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
I鈥檓 a bird of prey. I soar in wide circles over fields filled with my next scurrying meal. When I flap, my wingbeats are heavy, like the death knell that propels us all towards our inevitable demise. I attack in slow, controlled dives, with legs outstretched, unlike a falcon鈥檚 stoop. Because falcons are pussies.
But back to Vancouver鈥檚 City Bird Contest.听
If I鈥檓 going to get my feathers ruffled over every single snub and grievance, it鈥檚 going to be a long and tedious life ahead of me. Truth be told, it鈥檚 already a long and tedious life. And no amount of fresh vermin meat or bird-on-bird coitus will change that. 听
But when I caught wind that the city was holding a contest to name Vancouver鈥檚 PERMANENT official bird, well it caught this tired little hawk鈥檚 attention.
Sure, the nominees are all right in a sort of predictable, appeal-to-the-masses kind of way. I鈥檝e hung with a Northern Flicker or two. Partied with a Varied Thrush back in the day. Almost made out with a Spotted Towhee. And played Settlers of Catan with a group of nerdy Anna鈥檚 Hummingbirds. Is there any other kind?
But they all lack substance. Sure they鈥檙e showy and colourful, but there鈥檚 not much going on upstairs. They鈥檙e prima donnas. Always complaining about the service, always chirping about real estate and gluten. Do they even know what it鈥檚 like in the real world? When鈥檚 the last time they鈥檝e eaten something they killed themselves besides a grub or worm?
听
Do you know why humans don鈥檛 hang 鈥淩ed Tailed Hawk feeders鈥� in front of their kitchen windows like they do for hummingbirds? Because we feed ourselves. Like nature intended. And we鈥檇 probably destroy the feeder with our strong talons, anyway.
So while I鈥檒l admit I probably wouldn鈥檛 make the best bird ambassador for the City of 麻豆传媒映画鈥� what with my raspy scream, insatiable taste for flesh and lack of fancy-schmancy colouring 鈥� it would be nice to have been nominated.
But I get it. I鈥檓 easy to ignore, silently soaring above open fields. I don鈥檛 play well with others. Small talk over appetizers and flutes of prosecco isn鈥檛 my thing. When I fly, I fly hard. I eat tree squirrels.
But just remember when the city announces its official bird for all of eternity this afternoon, or until that big earthquake happens and the city is just a pile of broken glass and craft breweries, there鈥檚 one bird who was never given a chance, never even invited to the dance. And that bird is the Red Tailed Hawk. And when the big one hits, it鈥檚 going to be me perched atop the food chain, dining from a buffet of destruction and human misery. Not the Varied Thrush or Spotted Towhee. They鈥檒l be dead because I will have eaten them. That is all.
