The birds
The other day I read this article:
Fox News’ Peter Doucy hilariously dodged another bird attack outside the White House after being attacked by another feathered friend in April and we are with him in asking, “What’s going on?”
It’s not really a rerun of the Hitchcock movie. But it brought up a memory for me.
My ex-husband and I used to have a very good friend who lived in Paris. Unfortunately and sadly, he’s been deceased for many years. But way back when we had some good times visiting him in France. We’d stay with him in Paris, and sometimes we’d do side trips with him as well. It was great, and of course he spoke very fluent French, having been born there although he grew up mostly in the US.
On one of those trips we were in Aix-en-Provence, on that beautiful street with the tall arching trees. Suddenly, a bird unloaded on our friend’s head and shirt – a direct hit. Must have been a large bird, too, because this was an epic deposit. Fortunately, we had our luggage in the car, and he was able to change his shirt and wash off in the public mensroom.
Then we drove to Les Baux, one of those beautiful although touristy cities on a hill. Back then there were fewer tourists, and we had a lovely although tiring time strolling around. My ex went on ahead after a few hours, but our friend and I sat down on a low wall to rest As we sat there – yes, you guessed it – boom! Another bird (or perhaps the same one, who followed us there – it’s only an hour’s drive, and this was many hours later) took an enormous dump on our friend’s head and shirt.
Different shirt, of course; same head.
We found the car and he went through the entire ritual again.
My ex has another story that takes place in Europe and involves birds – but I’ll save that for another time. Always keep them wanting more.
I got dumped on while camping in the Rockies.
My Wife got dumped on while we were walking around a small village in England.
Concidentally, two weeks ago we were dining in a newly opened restaurant on one of the upper battlements of Mont St. Michel (at the foot of the abbey). We were having a very pleasant time of it when a seagull bombed us good and hard. Most of it (there was a lot) landed on the sun canopy shielding our table, so we continued on with our meal as though nothing untoward had happened. Our waiter told us that the seagulls in the vicinity were aggressively territorial and pointed out a pair perched on the battlement a few feet from our table, eyeing us calmly. He said it was likely that one of them had perpetrated the attack.
What can one do? C’est la vie.
Stayed at a hotel in Rome where birds roost in the evening and defecate all over the street (and anyone walking underneath). Then it rained, and got really slick. Motorcycle accidents all night, and then the street blocked off and city guys out cleaning it up the next morning.
The taxi driver who dropped us there was very brusque and impatient with us, he was literally the first Italian we talked to and we didn’t know if everyone was going to be like that. (They weren’t, almost everyone we met was very nice.) It wasn’t until later that we realized he probably knew that hotel and its particular hazard quite well.
Birds can smell tidy?
I was just reading about crows this morning. They have strong and long memories, do communicate with other crows and can be vindictive or be rewarding. If you piss off a crow or help a crow they will remember you and so will the other crows in their group.These behaviors have been studied in scientific experiments, testing the exceptional intelligence of crows.
I don’t know if a crow dumped on your friend but I wouldn’t be surprised. Or maybe it was a case of mistaken identity?
@ RCCA > “If you piss off a crow or help a crow they will remember you and so will the other crows in their group.”
I wonder if that observation underlays some of the fairy tales involving animals, often birds, as “magical” helpers?
As a youngster, as I was heading out to school and not quite yet out of our yard I got dumped on. I remember the experience as if it was yesterday. Needless to say, I was not happy.
Was my lunch hour, lower Manhattan (many years ago) and I got shat upon , TWICE, by birds, within a 45 minute span.
That was the only time I had ever been hit by an avian poop bombs.
Though neither here nor there, at the time my place employment was on the 78th Floor of the WTC (south tower).
And then there’s the fruit bats…for that ultimate experience (though it is quite true that crows/ravens—Lord, what a family!—can be pretty awful…).
Who knew being bombed by a bird could be so memorable. My story is one my husband and I recount because he can’t believe he was so awful. We were visiting Buenos Aires, and had planned a walk on what turned out to be a very unpleasant route: a shut, light industrial area on a day with a rather bitter wind. We were trodding along diligently but miserably, when I was shat upon by some sort of enormous seagull — huge amounts of really ghastly stinky stuff — I think it hit my hair among other parts. My unhappiness doubled, tripled, as I complained to my husband, who didn’t take me very seriously until suddenly his looked down, realized he had also been a target, and immediately declared the expedition cancelled. In a flash we were in a taxi back to our AirBnB to take showers and wash our clothes.
On another note, we had a friend who was a “bird lady” who let her parrots/parakeets fly around her house and hitch rides on her shoulder. When they pooped, all over, she just wiped it up. I thought it a little gross — but their little milky splats were nothing compared to that seagull’s almost irradicable mess.
When we first got this place, my wife spooked a blue heron out of the trees across from our driveway. I watched that bird circle and make two passes at her car. Two coats, bumper to bumper. She could barely see out the windshield. You do not want to be poop bombed by a blue heron with a full tank.
Re: Hitchcock’s “The Birds”
I just watched the first scene in honor of this topic. I love the bright 60s lighting, everyone dressed and coiffed, and the cute meet between between Rod Taylor and Tippi Hedren.
Hedren pretends to be an employee at an upper-end San Francisco pet store. She is showing Taylor lovebirds. Taylor plays along.
Much double entendre ensues. 🙂
“The Birds” has one of my all-time favorite movie scenes, later on in the diner –
Scared little boy: “Mommy are the birds going to eat us?”
Voice of waitress in background: “Three southern fried chickens with gravy!”
I saw the movie in Manhattan when it first came out. When it was over and I walked outside, there was a huge flock of pigeons swirling around.
Aristophanes — one comic not really known to forgo an opportunity to turn a scatological jest — likely won’t have missed one on this occasion.
Sausalito ferry, on the home commute. The tourists on the top were feeding the gulls while we regulars were chatting on the fantail
sdferr,
Did you ever see “The Odd Couple” episode where Felix and Oscar are on the gameshow, “Password,” and Felix gives Oscar the clue, “Aristophanes?”
Heh, no Rufus, and I’m off to look for it on the youtubes
. . . and found. Who can resist Betty White!
“Aristophanes…”
“RIDICULOUS!!”