A ninja pigeon just attacked a lady on Flinders Lane. The local Melbourne woman—an employee of The Melbourne City Library—was on her way to a meeting when the malicious bird swooped. I witnessed the attack while smoking a cigarette and enjoying the last of my morning coffee. Even I couldn’t tell you what really went down—it all happened so fast. Before we both knew it the bird was gone, off to cause some further trouble elsewhere I am sure. Within minutes the victim’s eye was bleeding, scratched by the claw on the offender.
“Am I okay?” she asked me as I peered intrusively into her right eyeball.
I watched on as the whites of her socket slowly turned red, pausing before I answered.
“Um, I think there’s blood. No, there is definitely blood.”
“My eye ball is bleeding?” She asked more calmly than I am sure I would have.
“Yes”
“Fuck. Sorry, pardon me.”
“Fuck is right! Don’t you worry, I’d be saying the same thing.”
The lady and I looked around us, trying to find the culprit. We both had those looks on our faces, those ones that say; what just happened? Is this shit for real?
I try to comfort her by looking in vain for the bird, I scan the bicycles that surround us on the footpath, as though it might be perched upon a handlebar gloating, waiting for me to tell if off. But the bird is nowhere to be seen.
“Fucking ninja pigeon!” I try to make her laugh—luckily it works.
“Do you need me to call someone for you? Can you see your phone through the blood?” My efforts to try and make her laugh are ruined. Now she looks concerned. I should have quit while I was ahead.
She tells me she is going to go inside to cancel her meeting. I say that’s probably for the best, she may need some medical attention.
“Thank you for even stopping.” She tells me, looking sincerely grateful.
“Oh, of course!” I smile.
After all, if a shady badass pigeon on Flinders Lane attacked me in such a manner, I’d certainly want somebody to pay me some attention.
“Good luck,” I call after her.
Half an hour later I am in the City Library watching paramedics escort her to their awaiting vehicle. I feel somewhat attached to her now, as though we’ve formed some sort of bond. I suppose there’s a certain sort of connection you make with someone once you’ve seen them being attacked by an avian species.
Meanwhile, the malicious bird flies on—be wary when you’re wandering down Melbourne’s Flinders Lane.
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