Luckily, a bird has never crapped on my head.
There are times when I’m walking and I catch the sight of a flying bird, its wings akimbo and soaring more like a kite than a sentient being. I get that feeling of wonder—the kind of cheesy awe that will probably make me a “birder” in my twilight years. That is, I’m in awe until it flies directly over my head.
At this point, I crane my neck slightly, bracing myself for something. I stare up at the bird and I get scared that…
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