Birds. Even just that word grosses me out.
Before I left Nashville, I figured I had to snap a few quick shots of the baby birds. I will be away for more than a week, and these little Filthy McNasties had better gone by the time I get back. And by gone, I mean living in a nearby tree, not dead on my doormat.
All six of ‘em — count those nasty beaks — are alive and well in there, some a little more buried than others.
Did you know baby birds live in a ring of their own excrement? Because they do.
Between dodging the pigeons here in Times Square and thinking about having to scrub bird poop off my front door when I get back, my total abhorrence of these vile repulsive creatures has reached new heights.
ewwww…so many germs.