And then some...
Second in the series.
Fear of Ducks/Geese - Fowlophobia:
In my childhood, I used to thrive on Beatrix Potter's books. I had a fondness for ducks and geese, and Jemima Puddle-Duck used to be one of my best friends.
Until the day the real-life feathered version of this childhood pal decided to nip my fantasy -- in the nose.
My parents and I would often spend summers in London. During one such vacation, when I was about six years old, we'd taken a trip to St. James Park. It is a truly beautiful place, renowned [among other things] for its water-fowl.
Many people visit the park just to feed bread-crumbs or biscuits to the geese, ducks and pelicans there.
My memory of this incident is a bit fuzzy, but what I do remember was taking the packet of biscuits from my Mom's hand and wanting to feed the ducks myself. One particular duck, whose mother was probably a pillow somewhere, seemed a little too fond of me. It fed happily from my hand, and I warmed up to it.
I was enjoying myself and everything was going smoothly until, in typical child-like enthusiasm, I popped one of the biscuits in my mouth. This little duck definitely didn't believe in breaking bread biscuit together, and felt I had tried to steal what was rightfully its meal. With a wild flap of its wings, the duck lunged straight at me and nipped me in the nose. It was a gentle nip, but it caught me off guard and I fell back on my tush. Even then the greedy thing didn't give up. It tried to insert its beak in my mouth to get the biscuit crumbs. By then I was howling loudly and my parents as well as some other people around noticed what was happening and shooed it away.
I was relatively unhurt except for a sore behind, and the fear of fowl instilled in me for life.
Fear of Monkeys - Simianophobia:
Dad and I had gone on a vacation to Thailand in '97. After touring most of Bangkok, and seeing all the temples, floating markets, and shopping malls possible; we had one free day before we flew to Phuket.
The concierge of our hotel, insisted that we must take a day trip to Bangkok's Safari World. We took his suggestion and visited the animal theme park. A lovely, fun place.
Of course, judging from past experience, I should have realized that if I am anywhere near animals, some memorable incident has to take place. It sure did.
After watching the Orangutans in a mock bout of boxing, we were heading for the next show, when we saw a troop of monkeys and their handler. Now it really is fun to watch monkey antics; always an endless source of amusement. We went closer to have a better look and maybe take a picture or two.
Until that point, I had no fear of simians or apes. I'd have happily gone tree-swinging even with King Kong. But the God of Phobias had something else in mind.
As I posed for a picture beside the monkey handler and his tailed troop, one of the monkeys climbed up in my lap. I found it so cute. "Ooh, see how he trusts me! I am Snow White!" I trilled happily. After the picture was clicked, I tried to give the monkey back to its handler, and that's when it clung harder. The simian simply wouldn't let go. No amount of coaxing from its handler or from me was making the monkey change its mind. It was stuck to me like Velcro.
All the cuteness of the situation vanished when even after ten minutes, the monkey was still not letting me go. His handler, who we learned was only keeping a temporary watch on them, tried offering peanuts [to the monkey, not me]. But even that didn't work.
"Will you please get off me, Mr. Banana-breath?" I mumbled. The simian responded by baring its teeth in an idiotic grin.
I looked at his handler helplessly. He had made himself comfortable by squatting on the ground and chewing gum. "Me no trainer," he said in his pidgin English. "His trainer be lunch."
"Whoa! You mean this simian made a meal out of his trainer?!" I shrieked.
The handler and my Dad both started guffawing. My own father was laughing at my state!
"No, no," the handler continued. "His trainer be go lunch."
We must have made quite an interesting sight there -- me and that silly simian, who had now wrapped its arms around my neck to show its affection. Other tourists who were passing by, stopped to take pictures of us. Little children actually came and posed beside me, and their parents asked them to say cheese. Everyone was giggling or laughing, except yours truly. As usual, I failed to see the humour in the situation.
"Listen, I need to go to the loo -- a.s.a.pee," I whispered to the psuedo-handler. "Please, get this thing off me!"
More giggling. Sigh. I resigned myself to my fate and started imagining that I'd be rooted to this spot forever, with the simian stuck to me like a piece of sticky gum. I'd be known all over Thailand as the 'monkey lady.'
It was right about then that the monkey's real trainer decided to come back from his two hour (!!!) lunch-break. He had one look at us, and said something in Thai that sounded suspiciously like, "Which one is the monkey?"
Anyway, it did the trick and the simian scampered off to the trainer. Before any other tailed whippersnapper could attach itself to me, I beat a hasty retreat.
***
No animals were harmed during the formation of these phobias.