Really, Bird?

Late last week I walked into my house after a long day at the office. I’d just finished farm chores and was picturing how the rest of my night would go: sit down, take my boots off, eat dinner, fall into a coma for an unspecified length of time.

It seemed like an all-around good plan, but, as with many of my best laid plans, the events of the evening were not going to play out as I’d envisioned in my head. I became acutely aware of this fact the minute I walked into my kitchen, heard a loud flapping overhead, and was subsequently dive-bombed by a large, dark something


Can you tell what this is? Yeah. Me either. So I did what any sane, rational, well-rested person does in this scenario…

Screamed, ducked, waved my arms over my head, and then executed an evasive maneuver that can only be described as a cross between stop-drop-and-roll and an army crawl. Apparently my subconscious fight-or-flight response figured that would cover all our bases.

Then I remembered I’m a farmer and basically half my day revolves around dealing with large, dark, flapping things, and how the hell did one of my baby chickens get on top of the kitchen cabinets?!


Oh. Wait. Not a chicken.

You can see how I might get confused though…

UntitledOr not.

So anyway, it turns out there was a Starling just hanging out in my house all day, for reasons that are still a mystery to me. I don’t know how he got in, but I do know it took some convincing to get him back out again.

I’m actually so used to having birds in the house at this point that I didn’t think much of it, but as the evening progressed I realized this bird spent the day making a pretty thorough inspection of the house. How do I know, you ask?

Oh, well there was this…


And this…

And, then when I went to sit down at my computer…


And–oh, good. I always wanted someone to shit next to my chapstic…



It’s clear my nightstand was too cluttered for this birds liking…

Nothing was spared.

 As if I don’t deal with enough literal and figurative shit on any given day…

I mean, really, bird?

Just another day on the farm.

26 Responses

  1. Lol. I just pictured that happening at my house, except I have 3 indoor cats. My house would have been DESTROYED. Yikes!
    Hope the cleanup went quick!

  2. Ewwww…. I mean, I realize you are a farmer and deal with gross stuff everyday, but still ewwww…

  3. I mean….you DID name your farm the Black Feather Farm, right? I think this bird was just trying to christen the place a bit. 🙂 Too funny!

  4. Now there’s a reason why I won’t leave a door open anymore. I have to admit it, I had a laugh, not because of what happened, but because of how you described it. Still, it’s not something you’d like to find in your house…

    I really hope the cleanup went well.

  5. We had a bat in our bedroom once. I screamed and ran away. (In fairness, I had just gotten out of the shower, but I am pretty pathetic.) My husband put on a jacket, gloves, and motorcycle helmet and chased it out. Those buggers can sneak in through tiny spaces.

    If you don’t mind saying, what is your office job (in vague terms)? I’m always curious about what people do.

  6. He pooped on your pillow? That’s just rude. I have to express my sympathy to the poor nugget for the shame of having her picture posted on the blog. It’s like your parents dragging out your awkward teenage pics from the 80s and showing them to all of their friends. That stage of chicken life should not be catalogued.

  7. I own two parrots. That, my friend? That is NOTHING. Though you have my sympathy. I find bird poop in the strangest places and every time I ask, “Really, parrots?”

  8. This prompted laughing/choking on coffee response! Done choking…not to stop laughing!

  9. This stuff doesn’t just happen to you, FYI. This morning my chicks decided to get in the patio room and sit on the recliner. I wish I could upload pictures here so I could post this cute pic of all six pullets sitting on the recliner. Problem is, they don’t just sit there, there poop on it. Dumb birds, why poop where you recline? Arrgh. Then I left my straw broom sitting up against the fence for just a sec, and one of the horses tried to eat it. Took a big bite out of the broom, decided it was not actually edible, and spit it out. The last broom I had, one of the horses stepped on and broke the handle. Sigh. Another day at the farm!

  10. By the way, Kit, are you considering a career change? 🙂 I noticed the book that the bird tried to drop a bomb on.

    1. No career change! Sometimes I get drunk with friends and we Myers-Briggs type each other 😉

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