Birds (An earlier post by my youngest)

As a twenty-three year old, I haven’t come close to matching the distance my father has traveled; especially vehicle less. Unlike Mr. Villotti, I have no marathons, triathlons, or any other ‘lons to my name. Not to mention the thousands of miles he has walked throughout his sixty-one year life. Yeah, sorry dad, you probably didn’t think I was going to expose your age in this, did ya? Regardless, I do have one very memorable walk to my name. Last summer I was given the opportunity to visit the Orkney Islands of Scotland, and if you ever have the chance, visit these magnificent islands. Words do no justice to the hospitality of the people, and the endlessness of new experiences within the Orkney Islands. One of the days, the group I was with took us to the small Island of Hoy. I think the population was in the 50’s for the entire island. While everyone was eating their lunch, and peering at The Old Man of Hoy, I noticed my chance to escape. I wanted my own adventure…a unique adventure. It happened. As I snuck farther away from the group, the adrenaline inside me escalated. I was surrounded by land and ocean. There was not a person or a building in sight. There is no coincidence why my father writes about his walks, and why I remember every moment of mine so vividly; the isolation is a catalyst for the senses. Ask anyone who enjoys a good hike alone in nature, and they will most likely tell you that they can hear a twig fall about a mile away. Ask that same person to hand you a pencil at the office, and your words will fall to a deaf ear. Anyways, as I was on cloud nine with this unprecedented experience, I was being watched. Unlike people, animals don’t need a leisurely stroll in the woods to get the senses enhanced…they sensed me before I had any idea. Here is a list of what I knew about the Island of Hoy: it has no snakes, no large predators (besides humans), a lot of birds, and from the Old Man of Hoy and around to the ferry was about 7 miles. So I knew that I could make it to the ferry by sundown easily. Another thing I did hear about, but didn’t take too much interest in, was the fact that there were these birds that, when they felt their nest or themselves were in danger, would swoop down and peck humans in the head. One of my instructors had actually had it happen to her. Little did I know, my route was taking me straight through their breeding ground. When I saw the first huddle of three birds, I remembered the story about the repercussions of these specific birds feeling hostile. The Great Skua. The closer I got, the more “great” they became. These birds were enormous, and they will forever represent evil to me. Scattered throughout the next two hours of my hike were hundreds of Skuas. I wanted an adventure, and I got more. I honestly only thought there was going to be a couple hostile birds amongst the crowd…but I was wrong. I began to get swooped down on, each bird I felt intending to shred me and make a nice meal for their flock. Three was the most at one time, but one was enough to leave me nearly hoping I packed another pair of boxers in the bag. Some would swoop down and some would fly inches from the ground until they saw their shot at me. The only thing I could think of is to revert back to some sort of animalistic code that would tell them to get the hell away from me. So I began to make deep aggressive noises, while expanding my body to look as large and threatening as possible. Keep in mind, although this was the scariest moment of my life, if a camera would have captured this, I would be number one on Funniest Home Videos. So for about two hours I was dodging those birds as they reached out with their talons trying to get a piece of me. At one point I looked around me, in a moment of rest/trying not to puke, and around 25-30 birds had created a circle around me. They weren’t close, but I knew their speed, and it wasn’t going to take any of them very long to get to me. I truly believe that if I would have stopped to think about my circumstance, that I would still be on Hoy, curled up in a ball, calling for my mommy. But I just kept going and kept taking the next obstacle for what it was. I made it through the breeding ground without a scratch, although the birds definitely got their point across. And as I slowly made my way down a steep side of the mountain, which should have been the hardest part of the journey, I could only smile. I kept wondering to myself if anyone would ever believe me. I found out soon enough. After a pleasant encounter with man traveling from Germany, he guided me the rest of the way to the ferry’s dock…where my whole group had recently ended their hike through Hoy. They believed me, and we all had a pretty good laugh as I found out that Great Skuas only come to land to breed. So they were all pissed off at me. It’s funny to think about now, but I would be lying if I said I don’t flinch every time any bird swoops towards me. So I guess my advice to walkers comes through this; Scars, whether mental or physical, create memories…create stories…and fuel life. So walk, hike, run, bike, whatever you want…but you won’t get too many scars sitting on the couch. Keep walking everyone, especially you dad…I love you.

P.S. For anyone questioning why I was so afraid of this particular bird…go to Google and search Great Skua. Read about them, look at a few pictures…

Son of Mr. Walking Wild,

Johnny Villotti