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At our house, on the patio in the front yard, there resides a fountain. We really like our fountain.
And so do birds.
We seem to have a lot of birds where we live. They are all over the place – in the trees. In the air. On the ground.
And in the fountain.
For some reason, known only to the birds, they think our nice fountain is a bird bath. This makes no sense to me because, not far from the fountain, we have supplied an actual bird bath.
The other day, we were out front admiring our fountain when I realized that it seemed a bit on the lethargic side. There was barely a dribble of water exiting the “spout” and dripping over the side of the top bowl into the larger “tub” below, where it recirculates back up to the top in a never ending cycle of – well -circulating water.
This, of course, caused both Judy and I to ponder over why it was so slow and weak. We thought there may be a clog in the pump. This caused Judy to dip her hand into the fountain to see if she could find something that might clog up the works.
She did find something that could clog up the works.
Bird fecal material. Lots of bird fecal material.
As it turns out, the birds also believe our fountain is a giant toilet.
Just prior to discovering that I was not willing to shake her hand, she said, “Ewe ewe ewe ewe…” and started to shake her own hand, not with her other hand, but to cause the removal of as much of the contaminant from her hand as she could. She then ran into the house and sterilized her hand and entire arm utilizing all sorts of anti-everything soaps, sprays and alcohol. Then she took another shower (her second of the morning). After her shower, she reapplied all of the germ-killing liquids she had previously utilized. then, just to make sure she had gotten everything, she took another shower (her third of the morning).
It was at this point that she started to feel better, less contaminated.
Which brings us to the conversation…
Judy: “We need to clean out the fountain.”
Bill: “And, by ‘we’, I assume that you mean ‘me’.”
Judy: “Yes, actually.”
Bill: “OK, I’ll do that after the rains stop.”
Bill, back in ‘pondering’ mode: “Why do you think the birds defecate in our fountain?”
Judy: “I don’t think its intentional, it’s just inadvertent. But that doesn’t make it any nicer.”
Bill: “I disagree.”
Judy: “You think they do it on purpose?”
Bill: “No. I think they do it on poopose.”
Ahem…
.
**Note: While this is an absolutely true account of absolutely true events, there may possibly be a detail, or two, that may possibly have been ever so mildly enhanced. – BK
Things With Six Strings 