The Birds by Daphne du Maurier

 


To add a bit more atmosphere to my reading The Birds, out my apartment window, down at the pond, a gaggle of Canadian Geese started honking and fighting and honking some more.

Patrick McGrath writes how Daphne du Mauier possessed an uncanny genius to craft her stories in ways to sustain tension right up until the the final sentence, an ending frequently shocking and disturbing in the extreme.
 
The Birds. And please don't think of the Hitchcock film - other than attacking birds and terrorized humans, Daphne du Maurier's tale is a hundred shades darker, incomparably more ominous and threatening, even to the point of impending cataclysm for the entire human race.  Here's my write-up.  Enjoy. 

THE BIRDS
“Black and white, jackdaw and gull, mingled in strange partnership, seeking some sort of liberation, never satisfied, never still. Flocks of starlings, rustling like silk, flew to fresh pasture, driven by the same necessity of movement, and the smaller birds, the finches and the larks, scattered from tree to hedge as if compelled.”

Handyman Nat Hocken lives in remote farming country out on a peninsula in England and remarks to one of the farmers how there’s something quite strange about all the bird behavior this autumn. Just how strange? Nat finds out very quickly when that very night birds enter the bedroom window of his son and daughter, dozens of little birds, attacking both of them, trying to peck out his son’s eyes. Nat takes immediate action, gets his children out of the room, closes the door, and frantically swings a pillow left and right, up and down, to kill as many birds as he can.

The next morning: “Nat gazed at the little corpses, shocked and horrified. They were all small birds, none of any size, there must have been fifty of them lying there upon the floor. There were robins, finches, sparrows, blue tits, larks, and bramblings, birds that by nature’s law kept to their own flock and their own territory, and now, joining one with another in their urge for battle, has destroyed themselves against the bedroom walls, or in the strife had been destroyed by him.” And this is only the beginning.

Later that day Ned is attacked by bigger birds out in a field and, after he races home for protection, both he and his wife hear on the radio that the government of England has called a state of emergency, advising all citizens to remain inside and take the necessary precautions to ensure their safety. But, above all else, people are urged to remain calm.

Time Out for Facts: there exists almost ten thousand different species of birds and according to some experts, the total worldwide bird population could total as many as four-hundred-billion. Whoa! Four-hundred-billion. No matter how you look at it, that’s a lot of birds. Imagine what would happen if, as if directed and coordinated by some unseen unifying force, all those birds began an attack en masse on humans.

Slovenian philosopher and cultural critic Slavoj Žižek believes the author was targeting the prevailing welfare state for their inability to effectively deal with the attacking birds. Patrick McGrath notes how du Maurier’s story anticipates a global ecological disaster. I myself think McGrath is on the mark and Žižek is way off the mark. As Nat Hocken asserts, survival, at least immediate survival, has everything to do with the sturdiness of one's shelter. Sorry, Slavoj - politicians of any stripe will be of little help in fending off a nonstop attack conducted by billions of birds.



Daphne du Maurier delves into the unsettling psychology produced by such an attack. Almost to be expected, initial reactions revolve around denial and rationalization. Very understandable since the cycle of human existence is completely dependent on the laws of nature.

And the more we understand the laws of nature, the more we feel we are in control. Herein lies the terror of the tale – the laws of nature remain intact with one glaring exception: the behavior of the birds. All of a sudden nature has transformed itself into the unknown. As writers such as H.P. Lovecraft recognized, there is no stronger human emotion than fear and no great fear than fear of the unknown.

As per the well-worn admonition, “Don’t just stand there, do something!” humans being humans, there is a natural instinct to take action. Upon hearing a roaring sound, Nat reflects how the authorities have sent out airplanes but knows this is sheer suicide since aircraft would be useless against thousands and thousands of birds flinging themselves to death against propellers, fuselages and jets.

Then Nat hears another sound, a sound prompting him to have one last smoke: “The hawks ignored the windows. They concentrated their attack upon the door. Nat listened to the tearing sound of splintered wood, and wondered how many million years of memory were stored in those little brains, behind the stabbing beaks, the piercing eyes, now giving them this instinct to destroy mankind with all the precision of machines.”

Did I mention gripping? I can assure you, you will never encounter a more chilling, spellbinding, mesmerizing tale then this one. Darn, down at the pond, those Canadian Geese are still honking up a storm. But no attacks on humans have been reported . . . yet. 




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