He should be grateful, then: a faceful of broom bristles should help clear all those feathers out.

...Of course...they'll also be scratchy and itchy and rough against his face. Kind of painful, too, when it comes crashing down like that at first. But then Aerith seems to notice how sorry he looks there on the ground and maybe he's already hurt and she lets up. Still stern though, as she puts one hand on her hip, the other holding her broom firmly. "Look at you! Did you eat him? Mister Bird?"