'busy as Hitchcock' is brilliant, Alan. I can just hear all those birds! I saw a stage adaptation of The Birds at our local drama festival a few years ago in which you didn't see one for most of the play, but just heard the sound of them outside–it created great tension.
It's true though, and not just the birds, as everything thrives on a constant life/death cycle.
You need to get to Australia in September where it's the breeding season and Australian Magpies can chase you for a whole mile. Oddly I had to escape to a small area of woodland to be safe that day. Even the wagtails are frightening during September.
It's strange that although it's also the breeding season for snakes they wouldn't attack. Despite being repeat attackers (you could be bitten two or three or more ongoing times by a Common or Eastern Brown, they'd just look at me and you could hear them saying 'idiot' or 'English idiot'). But the birds, even a single wagtail, more terrifying than a Magpie, is a nightmare, and drawing eyes on the back of my hat only worked one year!
I guess a play would be highly effective because terror is building up and maintaining tension. The tension would continue outside as well. I remember a particularly unnerving horror movie, even the martial arts master, a mate, screamed at one point. But leaving the cinema, even into a relatively busy London street, was incredibly stressful and lasted even after we got back home. Imagination is what Alma Reville taught Alfred Hitchcock, which is why many of us are still nervous about hearing a slight unknown noise while taking a shower.
I remember being terrified about a shark attack after Jaws, and where was I terrified, while having a bath! I had to be clean, but between taking a shower and taking a bath, I had Alma Reville and Steven Spielberg working against me!
What a wonderful haiku. It brings back images from childhood tales, such as Hansel and Gretel.
I am very fortunate to live just a few miles from an ancient oak forest in the Mourne Mountains and the feeling of being watched while walking along the forest paths is familiar.
A few minutes ago I commented on Bryan Rickhart's haiku that immediately follows this one, in which I mention a tree in my hometown that looked like it had features. During childhood my siblings and I used to find faces in the bark patterns of trees, so perhaps they are embedded in my adult subconscious! :)