When one of the birds of the air drops a little present down to you – do ya feel lucky? Well, do ya punk? Or just angry?
The tradition in Ireland – and maybe other places – is that it’s lucky when a bird poops on you. That dirty yellowy white smear down the back of your anorak or dripping from your ear is… lucky! A fine example of rationalisation if ever I heard one.
According to the highly prestigious website My poptart tastes funny… it depends on what type of bird divebombs you. I’m afraid to say that Magpies are supposedly the worst – which is a shame as it was Magpie who chose the birds of the air as this week’s topic for the Loose Bloggers Consortium. Sorry Magpie. (You can read what the rest of the LBC lot have to say about this by clicking on their links in the right hand column. Just scroll down a bit to find them.)
Meanwhile, thinkers sit out waiting for owls to festoon them in fecal wisdom. (Though they don’t always get what they want.)
However, in one way at least, having a magpie leave a deposit on your bonce would indeed be lucky – when you consider the alternative. I direct you, gentle reader, to that classic song about a small town in Donegal where I had one of my best ever New Years. (To avoid confusion with any other Moville, I’m talking about the Moville a few miles up the road from Muff, which is most renowned for it’s diving club. Honestly it IS safe for work.)
But anyway, the song goes something like this:
Oh the cows they fly high in Moville…
And you can guess where that’s going. Which also makes me wonder about those moments of wishful thinking when a yearner is heard to say – “If pigs could fly…” I feel very lucky that it’s only birds I have to worry about.
But here’s a poem to round you off. (Thanks to Natasha’s Cafe for the words.)
If Pigs Could Fly
|If pigs could fly I’d fly a pig
To foreign countries small and big
To Italy and Spain
To Austria where cow bells ring
To Germany where people sing
And then come home againI’d see the Ghangis and the Nile
I’d visit Madagascar’s isle
And Persia and Peru
People would say they’d never seen
So odd so strange an air machine
As that on which I flewYes everyone would raise a shout
To see his trotters and his snout
Come floating from the sky.
And I would be a famous star
In all the countries near and far
If only pigs could fly
More on James Reeves here.
Ugh – final thought – Kid Creole and the Coconuts. Remember his hit – Stool Pigeon? I fear I’ve just uncovered another layer of meaning.