Thursday, June 30th, 2011

Sometimes when I walk under a bird sitting on a wire I get a creepy feeling and have to brush the top of my head with my hand to make sure there isn’t any bird poop up there, even though I’m pretty sure I’d know if a bird actually pooped on me without having to reach up there and touch it. Wait, I take that back. A raven shat on me once and I thought I’d been hit by shrapnel, or maybe a bazooka. Even after I looked down to see my shoulder and most of my sleeve was covered in raven poop, for several minutes I couldn’t believe all of that came out of a bird. I thought a nearby kid might possibly have thrown a handful of mud at me, even though there was no mud around. All my life I’d never been pooped on by a bird, and then karma caught up with me and had to make up for all those years in one big, super-pooping bird.

How many birds do you suppose there are in the world? I ask because it seems as if, just in our little neighborhood, there must be enough to feed everyone for a year, to judge from the sound of all the chirping and singing going on. There’s got to be millions of them within walking distance of my house. I don’t know how trees can hold them. Which reminds me, I used to think that birds were the reason we have wind. No, really. It’s not all that far-fetched when you think about it: Millions upon millions of birds up there, flapping around, waves building on waves. It makes sense, in a sort of demented way. Much more than unevenly heated masses of low- and high-pressure air colliding with one another. Come on, I can’t be the only one who thought this.

But back to the poop: I take a walk around the neighborhood each morning, and it’s an older neighborhood with lots and lots of mature trees hanging over the streets, and the trees are full of birds. I take my walk very early in the morning when they’re all singing their hearts out. It must be great waking up and, first thing in the morning before you’ve rubbed the sleep out of your eyes while sucking down a couple mugs of coffee, feeling so good about life, the universe and everything that you’ve just got to sing a song. I’d sure like to wake up and feel that kind of hope. Maybe I ought to eat more worms, or sleep naked in a tree. Anyway, I can hear that there are millions of birds up there, right over my head, and yet every morning I return to the house unshat upon. How is that even possible? I put it to you. And I leave it to you.

birds | 6:09 am CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags:
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2 Comments

  1. 1 The Seanster said at 8:29 am on June 30th, 2011:

    If you start eating worms, or sleeping naked in a tree, we WILL put you in the old folks’ home, or the looney bin. Just so you know.

  2. 2 Gary*j said at 10:43 am on June 30th, 2011:

    Quoth the raven “nevermore … Ugh, wait …. [grunt] … Aaaah, yes nevermore”