Using potty humor, Birdie successfully entertained the boys in my fifth grade class. He quickly joined snapping turtles, worms, crayfish, and sea monkeys on my bad pet list.
Before Dad bulldozed it down, an old ice house stood on the far side of our milk-house. Instead of huge blocks of ice, it housed a giant flock of pigeons. Their messy nests sat on a high ledge just below the roof line, out of reach.
“Hey, Dad, do you have a long ladder I can borrow?”
Dad used his parental intuition and refused my request.
The straw-covered dirt floor of the ice house poked through layers of pigeon poop. Around the perimeter, sad skeletons of kamikaze pigeon babies formed a pathetic ring.
Baby pigeons don’t fly, they plummet.
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“Murderer,” I screamed. “You’re going to go to hell! You’re a black-hearted murderer!”
I needlessly made David feel horrible. He never intentionally hurt anyone or anything, and was already consumed with remorse.
That spring, an older pigeon baby fluttered somewhat gently to the ground. I scooped up my new pet. A large cardboard box became Birdie’s temporary home. As fifth graders, we’d outgrown show-and-tell time years ago. But several classmates brought visiting pets earlier in the year, so I brought Birdie.
Birdie was not as pretty or clean.
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I picked Birdie up like a small plump falcon and perched him in my right hand. My left hand kept him from jumping free. The reactions of my classmates pleased me, but not for long.
My pleasure fluttered away as Birdie’s gray and white poop dribbled down my arm. The girls didn’t want to pet him anymore. The boys hooted and laughed. Mrs. Bennett brought me a wad of brown paper towels.
As soon as Dad got home, he climbed a ladder and we returned Birdie to his nest. No longer weighed down by a pound of poop, Birdie should have been able to fly up to his ledge.
Birdie briefly peered over the low nest edge with his beady bird eyes, turned around, and squeezed out another spit of spite.
Lesson learned: A bird in the hand is not always worth two in the bush.
Related Posts: Pandemonium Trail/Turtle Thief; Pandemonium Trail/Squishy Foot and Monkeys
Now it’s your turn: Has a pet ever pooped on you?
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1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures 
Pet-poop would not be as bad as what I experienced. Many years ago, when I lived in San Diego, I frequently spent the day with my kids at the San Diego Zoo. One day, right after we arrived, a huge sea gull was obviously not happy to see me, and as it flew overhead, it dropped a HUGE load of poop on my head! The worst part of that, though, was that it didn’t just stay on my head — it immediately began to run down my head, left side of my face, my shoulder and arm. This was the most disgusting thing you can imagine! There we were just starting our day at the zoo, and I stank like a sewer! The smell was so bad, it nearly made me puke. I had to find a bathroom and try to wash off as much as I could. Needless to say, my day was not great…
Oh, Donna, I love this story. And sea gulls eat fish, which stinks even worse than normal bird poop. David got hit by a sea gull once, but only on his leg. I’m sure your kids didn’t laugh then … or now over your unique facial. Did it make your hair or skin soft?
That’s amusing, Mary! I really don’t recommend seagull crap as either a shampoo or a face cream! If you could get beyond the fact that it’s bird crap, you would never get past the smell!!
I believe you, Donna. It is a funny story though.
In India, it’s considered lucky if a bird craps on you. For what that’s worth…
Thanks, Mimmy. Yes, I was lucky the poop didn’t get on my dress or shoes. I don’t think Donna, in the comment above, felt lucky.
Keep it coming. Great story!
Thanks, Robin. I will.
Hahaha! A bird in hand is a scream and a riot when you get done with it here 🙂
Thanks, Suresh. Birdie did not make a return appearance at school
I’m stringing pearls, reading your episodes, Mary. 🙂
Thanks, Spunky. I appreciate your positive feedback.
The podcast is up, http://kriskkaria.podbean.com/. Thanks so much for letting me narrate your funny story!
Thank you, Kriskkaria, for your narration. I am really flattered and appreciative.