When embarking on a quest to find birds of epic proportion, England is not normally the first place one would think of to search. Records of such gargantuan aerials are plentiful, and are generally quite sufficient for those wishing to soar through the clouds like that kid in “The Rescuers: Down Under,” catch an easy trip home after dropping a singular piece of jewelry into a crater of lava, or just eat especially well on a November holiday. One could venture to the Middle Eastern countries in search of the Roc, known for carrying off elephants and recalcitrant sailors to be eaten whole. Tales of the Thunderbirds might lead an adventurer to seek out the Native American tribes for guidance. Many a traveler has made the long and bus-filled trip to the deserts of Arizona only to find not a majestic bird with extraordinary powers of resurrection, but a city paralyzed with fear by the knowledge that someday the forces of irony will visit upon it a fate similar to that which befell London and Chicago. And who among us, gripped by legends of the massive golden bird of the city, has not asked the age-old question: “Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?”
Truly, giant birds have fascinated mankind for eons, ever since he discovered the delicious flavor of the flesh of birds and the sheer abundance of the flesh of animals larger than birds. Unfortunately, attempts to combine these traits genetically have as yet been unsuccessful – thousands of lives were lost in the infamous Buffalo Wing Project, and braver souls have yet to emerge to begin that dark work again.
However, amidst all this mythology, public television, and Hooter’s fare, the United Kingdom has gone largely unnoticed. The remaining species of giant birds have secretly populated this quiet island, inhabiting it with such numbers and behaviors as could make Alfred Hitchcock feel depressingly inadequate. Statistics show that the birds of Britain outweigh its humans by almost 4:1, and were they to all take wing simultaneously, they would blot out the clouds and probably crap on one another for a change. Statisticians admit that this is highly unlikely, yet one never sees a British statistician out walking without his umbrella and haunted expression.
The swans of Hyde Park are a prime example of Britain’s abnormal aviary population, and the one most easily noticed by foreigners. While swans around the world are known for their violent nature, these swans take particular relish in the fact that they are large enough to drive their beak, head, and neck completely through an adult moose. Swans attacking humans outside of the United Kingdom have been known to break bones, render eyes unusable, and overturn smaller automobiles with gusts of wind from their flapped wings. These swans are regarded by British swans as “wusses;” a recent swan attack left a constable disfigured after the swan sliced off his ear with a razor. Dog owners are encouraged by the city of London to walk their pets in Hyde Park, where they are summarily devoured whole by the swans – this keeps the problem of pet waste in the city to a minimum. The trees of Hyde park are purposefully arranged in a grid-like pattern for the benefit of London citizens; if a swan becomes particularly enraged (a state that may be triggered by any number of offenses such as coming between a swan and its young, allowing a swan’s young to come between oneself and the swan, the discarding of a fortune cookie fortune without bothering to check one’s lucky numbers, and any number of other behaviors which the swans refer to colloquially as “giving me shit.”), patrons of the park are advised to run to the nearest tree and hide behind it. This will offer very little by way of lowering your visibility, as all swans have X-ray vision, but may shorten a killing stroke of the swan’s beak to a mere flesh wound if it is forced to penetrate the trunk of the tree first. If the swan beats its wings, the tree may fall upon its occupant and kill them instantly, but most would agree that this fate is far kinder than any that an enraged swan would inflict in the absence of trees. Despite their brutality, however, the swans are revered by the citizens of London, as it is the wind from their great wings that powers the Gulf Stream and keeps the weather habitable.
The peacocks of Warwick Castle are similar in size to the swans of Hyde Park, though they share little of their ferocity. They have watched over and protected the Castle ever since they raised it from the bones of the earth roughly 70 million years ago to protect themselves from body thetans. The peacocks remain at the castle to this day, and their beauty is renowned throughout the land. Their tails hold a particular reverence; when William Shakespeare viewed the beautiful plumage for the first time and was asked to describe them, he only stammered that they “should have sent a poet.” Popular legend says that if you view the sun’s rays shining through the front of a Warwick peacock’s spread tail, you will either see the face of God or the face of the person you will marry. Slightly less popular legend says that the tail viewed in such a way will cause you to see God french-kissing the person you will marry while winking roguishly and stroking his thin mustache. Viewing the sun’s rays through the back of a peacock’s tail is said to reveal the date either 2 weeks before or 2 weeks after the apocalypse; this claim has never been put to the test, however, as it is considered extremely rude to sneak up on a peacock, particularly in the early morning or late evening hours.
Back in London, the ravens of the Tower of London often escape notice despite their monstrous size. Traditional Tower legend says that if the ravens ever leave the Tower grounds, the Tower itself will collapse. This is quite true; the ravens are load-bearing birds. Architect Bishop Flambard was a radical free-thinker when it came to the composition of defensive structures, and decided that the main building material of the White Tower would be the resident giant ravens. Ignoring protests that such a plan was contradictory to both the Tower’s given name and basic principles of masonry, the Bishop designed and began construction of his vision. He quickly was forced to abandon the concept of a flying castle due to the restrictions of natural law, despite the clear advantages it would offer in battle. Nevertheless, the Bishop’s artistic vision persisted, and after years of construction he had erected the Tower, composed entirely of ravens, mortar, and some bricks. It remains standing today, and all who witness the structure admit that building a fortress out of gigantic birds, if nothing else, takes some serious balls.
Finally, the pigeons. At first glance these birds may not appear to be of any extraordinary size. At second glance, however, you will find that in the period of time it took you to execute a double-take the pigeons have quadrupled in number and now have their collective gaze fixed on you. Look deep into the eyes of any single pigeon and you will be met with nothing more than an eerie blankness such as one might encounter when engaging in a staring contest with a Barbie doll. But widen your focus to encompass all of the now hundreds of pigeons in front of you, and let dawn upon you the vast knowledge and wisdom that resides in the minds of the many. This is a species that has seen the fall of empires, has withstood centuries of people running through crowds of them for dramatic effect, and has devoted the entirety of their excrement to expressing disdain for the achievements of the human race. As you stare impossibly into the thousands of pairs of eyes that now fill your vision like a kaleidoscope, acknowledge that the pigeons were here before you existed, will be here when you are long gone, and that, had certain circumstances of traffic or homicide gone slightly differently, the pigeons would be enjoying that muffin in your hand right now. Realize that, should a single crumb of cake drop from your now frozen fingers, it would be as a single spark within a gray-feathered powder house, igniting the mass you see before you into a fury that professional ornithologists call “batshit crazy.” You may blink. But do it carefully. When your eyes reopen you may discover only a half dozen birds before you, pecking indolently at the pavement. It’s possible that you will continue on your way. Don’t bother checking over your shoulder in the future to see if there are any pigeons there – there are.
England is indeed a strange country for a foreigner, full as it is of history and legend. While it may not claim as much fame for them as such mystical realms as Middle-Earth, Olympus, or Australia, the United Kingdom has more than its fair share of magical and magnificent birds. Fear and respect them, and return to your home with stories of their valor, beauty, and vicious stabbings, for they are the some of the last vestiges of the airborne creatures of myth, along with Santa Claus, and their existence must be remembered to continue.
Also, some of the swans have laser-vision.
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