Bird Lesbians and the Zombie Apocalypse

turkeyeditI have these close friends who are Bird Lesbians. A Bird Lesbian is a lesbian (obviously) who knows a lot about birds and likes to talk about birds. Often. These are the lesbians most likely to text you a video of the sandhill cranes they saw on the side of the road or to tell you over coffee that they recently saw a bald eagle at the city park. They are required to have a well-worn copy of The Sibley Guide to Birds but may also have a book with recorded bird calls, a bird call whistle, or a stuffed bird that makes the appropriate call when squeezed.

The Bird Lesbians have tried to claim me as one of their kind ever since I admitted that I had a meaningful moment with a group of about twenty goldfinches. I am not, however, a Bird Lesbian. It was just that one time, and I was confused.

Last weekend, my partner Luisa and I were hanging with the Bird Lesbians when one pointed through the window and yelled, “Wild turkey!” We live in an inner city neighborhood so Wild Turkey has a very different meaning most of the time but we all jumped up, turned and looked to see an enormous turkey strutting through the back yard. And, before I knew what was happening, we were all running out the door–Gin and Tonics in hand–to stalk the wild turkey through the mean streets of South Minneapolis.

We were able to get quite close and the first thing I said was, “Oh my god, it’s huge!” and the second thing I said was, “Look at its iridescent scales!” I’d like to blame that comment on the gin but I can’t be sure. We followed the turkey for awhile and Luisa Googled turkey calls and was soon playing one through her iPhone and taking pictures like a wildlife photographer but the ice in my drink was melting, and I was quickly losing interest. Plus, I was grappling with the realization that Luisa may be becoming a Bird Lesbian. So, I left them with the turkey and went back inside to freshen up my drink.

When they returned, we talked about the turkey for quiet awhile and then one of my friends pulled out the bird call book and started quizzing us on bird calls. Yes, it was a crazy Saturday night. Whippoorwill!

This morning, my kids and I were talking about the zombie apocalypse while driving to school, and I said that I thought we had a good chance of surviving. My son shook his head and said, “No. We’d get infected quickly. I can see it now. We would be running down the street and you’d say, ‘Oh my goodness! Look at that yellow breasted, blue throated woodpecker!’ and, when you stopped to look, they’d get you.”

I gasped, “I am not a Bird Lesbian! I would never stop to look at a bird while being chased by zombies!”

He said, “You’re right. That would be Kris.”

Kris is one of the Bird Lesbians mentioned above.

He went on, “Kris would stop to admire the bird and tell us all about it and then she’d get attacked and because lesbian families are all about being in touch with feelings, we’d all stop and talk about feelings for awhile and then we’d all get attacked and die.”

I was stunned. Wouldn’t lesbian families have a better chance of survival because we are into gardening and camping and nature?

I said, “No! We’d do great in the apocalypse!”

He shook his head sadly, “We don’t really have weapons either.”

“But we have that field hockey stick!”

Zeca spoke up then, “Yeah. That will help. You have to get really close to take out a zombie with a field hockey stick.”

She had a good point.

I looked at them both and said, “I guess we’ll just have to hope there is no zombie apocalypse.”

With the Bird Lesbian situation, the feelings and the lack of suitable weapons, we all realized that lesbian families might be the first to go.



  1. They are wearing you down, those bird lesbians.

  2. A world with zombies and birds is not designed for your survival. Enjoy it while you last.

  3. Deborah Goldstein says:

    I have become VERY good at throwing rocks at wild turkeys and not hitting them…because they are menaces and because I have terrible aim! Oh sure, they are so cool at first. You take pictures and videos and then you realize that the one you saw on that neighbor’s porch was a scout and the next thing you know a pack of 13 … yes THIRTEEN … take over the town, blocking traffic, ripping up your lawn, and roosting in trees – because THEY FLY – and I am READY for the zombie apocalypse ESPECIALLY if the zombies are turkeys. I’m hoarding rocks just in case.

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