… while reading under a tree in a park here in France. This tree, actually:
Doesn’t that look like a great spot?
I picked it because the ground was covered in flowers that looked like this:
I still can’t believe it happened.
And the craziest thing—-something inside me KNEW it was going to happen.
About twenty seconds before 5 white globs landed on me (and one in my shoe—six in total, for those counting)… about twenty seconds before, I thought to myself:
“Hm… those crows are loud… I could get pooped on.”
Yeah, that train of thought didn’t make sense to me either, but I thought it, and just as quickly as I thought it, I dismissed it with the question:
“DOES THAT EVER REALLY HAPPEN? Do people actually get POOPED on?”
No. I told myself. There are so many places to poop, what are the chances of a crow pooping on you?? It’s probably like getting struck my lightening.
So I didn’t move. And a few seconds later. SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT… SPLAT SPLAT.
Thank GOODNESS I was wearing a sun hat. Two separate poops landed on that.
Unfortunately it’s a bit blurry, so you can’t see the poop, but this is my, IVE JUST BEEN POOPED ON! face.
For those wondering, the word in French for “poop” is “caca.”
Immediately after, after the thought “Julia you even KNEW this was going to happen,” I simply looked around to see if anyone else had seen.
I needed someone to laugh with and to tell me just how badly I’d been hit.
When I found that no one had seen… my laughter turned to disappointment. Being alone after you’ve been pooped on is a disappointing time to be alone.
And then my brain turned to practical thoughts: How do I move without spreading the poop all over my beautiful silk dress?
And this is when Sarah found me, still stunned.
Finally, FINALLY I could laugh with someone about it.
We laughed until we cried.
“I think it was personal,” I eventually squeezed out between gasps, “They don’t like me because I scare them away from my roof.”
“Well,” Sarah replied, “Crows don’t have poop sphincters, so they couldn’t have aimed it at you.”
(Apparently they have something called a cloaca which mixes the poop and pee together before it leaves the bird—so technically I got pooped and peed on. As you can imagine, that didn’t make me feel any better.)
My mom comforted me by telling me it’s good luck when a crow poops on you.
And after a quick google search, I found that when a crow poops on you: The Secret Magic of Creation Is Calling.
“The cawing out of the crow should remind us that magic and creation are cawing out to us every day…Wherever crows are, there is magic. They are symbols of creation and spiritual strength. They remind us to look for opportunities to create and manifest the magic of life…”
Well, dear crows (and magic of life), thank you for the reminder.
You have my attention. Next time, please drop a flower instead, it’ll do just as well. 😉