Spring hit Chicagoland for five minutes. We opened our filthy windows for those five minutes. And nature got inside.

The outside birds screamed like assholes. Our budgies heard them. They screamed back. All that screaming reminded me of every conversation we ever had at family gatherings–everyone getting louder and louder until Uncle Bob raises the volume on the TV to DEAFENING.

For sure, a connection was made between the wild birds and our budgies. And through the power of lies, here is their actual conversation:

Wild Bird: Hey it’s great outside! It’s goddamned SPRING up in here! We’re glad we’re not dead! We’re birds and shit! Trees!


WB: Let’s hop on this grass! We don’t discuss politics! Oh look, a hedge!


WB: After we get some worms and bugs, maybe lets fly! Look at the leaves! The sun is great and warm! What’s a celebrity?


WB: Sorry Sprinkles, none of us speak Parakeetese. Wish we could help.

S: What the fuck! I understand you. And you just called me by my name!

WB: Sprecken zee doychee?


WB: Sorry, I’m going through a tunnel . . . you’re . . . break . . . up . . .


WB: Look, I’ve already been arrested twice for theft, I don’t need this third strike bullshit putting me in some goddamned cage for the rest of my life.

S: Asshole, Illinois doesn’t have the three strikes law. Also, I’m in a cage and I didn’t do A DAMN THING!

WB: . . .

S: There are about a million holes in that screen. These people are stone cold hillbillies. Just squeeze in through one and open the cage. It’ll take 20 seconds. And then I’ll get you all the worms you could eat for the rest of your life!

WB: Sorry, bro, gotta fly. Good luck, Houdini!


After that, I closed the window and glared at Sprinkles with all the intensity of the heating bulb in an Easy Bake oven.

Of course, whenever birds are flapping and screeching, I can’t help but remember the one time a bird shit right in my mouth.

Plot twist.

I was 10? 11? The beast was wing-ed. It fluttered to and fro betwixt a nest and somewhere that wasn’t the nest. My curiosity was indomitable. I had to see if there were eggs in that nest. So while the bird was fro, I climbed the small tree and peeked into the nest.

Nestled in the nest were three speckled eggs. And another fucking bird.

That other bird went crazy. It dive-bombed me. I thought it was going to get caught in my luxurious locks. I almost fell out of the tree.

I scrambled down as fast as I could. The teeny tiny bird with no teeth, or opposable thumbs, or any real way to do serious physical harm, continued its assault. On the last pass, it shitted all over me. The shit ran in a straight line up my right arm, ending in my open, shocked mouth.

I began spitting all over and scraping my tongue with my filthy fingernails. I would have used a rasp.

I looked at my arm. The line of shit on my arm was moving. I looked closer at the black/white splash. There were worms in it. Little, undigested, still-living worms, and they were waving at me from the line of bird shit on my arm. Gently swaying and trying to lift themselves from the muck.

The bird went back to its nest.

Years later I went on to eat pistachios.






  1. Now I almost want to set your budgies free.

    Although they probably deserve to live in a cage after that whole childhood trauma thing certainly perpetrated by a distant budgie relative in disguise.

    • jeffandjill

      04/21/2015 at 3:49 pm

      I WOULD LOVE to open the cage and declare “YOU’RE FREE!” to those damn birds. They’d probably get eaten by some hawks. We have a lot of hawks in our little village that borders Chicago. A lot of budgie-eating hawks.

  2. Sprinkles and [whatever the other budgie’s name is] have filthy mouths. I hope they don’t talk like that in front of your kids.

    I’m glad you were able to enjoy those 5 minutes of spring. What if you were on the toilet or in the middle of having a vasectomy when it happened? I’m not glad I read this post while eating dinner, though. And I only have myself to blame for clicking through to the pistachio post.

    I’m sorry about the bird shit getting into your mouth, but those birds parented very responsibly and with amazing passion. Good thing they didn’t claw you and peck your eyes out.

    • jeffandjill

      04/22/2015 at 8:24 am

      No, Sprinkles and Cupcake never use profanity in front of the kids. They also don’t smoke in front of the kids. And that mama bird gets all the respect. She did what she had to do. Because what if I tried to take up juggling with her babies? Who knows what I would have done. Scrambled eggs? Who knows?

      • You’re right–who does know?! Because you were just a boy with a healthy sense of curiosity and the mama bird was just doing her job. I’m so glad you didn’t have time to juggle those eggs.

        When I was little I had blonde hair that the local birds were attracted to for building their nests. This was right after the movie “The Birds” came out. The woman who babysat me in her home after school used to walk with me past where these birds were laying in wait. She used a squirt gun fill with ammonia to stop the birds that would swoop down and go for my head. She was trying to blind them. Seems a little over the top now, but it was exciting at the time.

        What’s this Chris says about you being the reason the Bloggess writes? Can I get your autograph?

        • jeffandjill

          04/22/2015 at 10:00 am

          Hahaha! Yeah, I commented on a Bloggess post once and she commented back that my comment was the reason she blogs. I lost my mind and blogged about it here.

          And that ammonia squirt gun does seem like overkill. Wow! That’s one badass babysitter!

  3. HA! Love this!
    And especially love the bird that shat in your mouth!
    That’s when your pouty mouth originated!

  4. You may be the reason The Bloggess writes, but (more importantly) you are the reason I read blogs!!!

    I could just picture that conversation between Sprinkles and the WB, it made me laugh so hard that The Blokey rolled his eyes at me. (If I keep making him do that his eyes will fall out, I swear)
    It was the mental image of the wriggling bird shit up your arm that did it for me though! Gross but brilliant, I hope you have many more to share with us.

    • jeffandjill

      04/22/2015 at 10:03 am

      Thank you!Sorry to your nose and eye-rolling is an excellent way to burn calories or so I like to tell myself.

      I’ve never forgotten the wriggling worms in that bird shit. Flopping for a second chance at life.

  6. Seriously? A bird shit in your mouth? I would have puked until I died. Now? I am dying of laughter. Sorry…

    • jeffandjill

      04/22/2015 at 10:14 am

      It’s okay. But now I’m wondering something. You know how birds regurgitate their food for their young? Maybe it wasn’t bird shit. Maybe it was bird vomit. After all, would the worms still be alive after passing through the entire digestive tract of the bird? So maybe the bird didn’t shit on me, it could have been regurgitating its food for me. It could have been trying to feed me, adopt me, and raise me to be a bird. I could be flying right now.

      • I was thinking the same thing about that substance being barf and not shit. But I interpreted it as the bird barfing on you, not trying to feed/nurture/adopt you and teach you to fly. I may need to improve my outlook on life…

        • jeffandjill

          04/22/2015 at 12:36 pm

          I’m a “cup half full of bird puke” kinda guy.

          • Note to self: Do NOT read Jeff’s blog while eating.

            Last night I read this post while eating dinner, and I just read the above comment while finishing a sandwich. That’s it, the orange I was about to eat is going back into the fridge.

            Then there was the moth in the salad slathered in ranch dressing. But I don’t know how you didn’t faint after seeing “Jenny’s” comment. I would have needed a couple of valiums at the very least if that had happened to me. But you–despite the PSLs and tiny scrotum–apparently have been blessed with a shit ton of testosterone.

          • jeffandjill

            04/22/2015 at 1:01 pm

            I didn’t faint, but I shrieked and my mascara ran.

            And if this blog works as an appetite suppressant, then maybe I have a future in pioneering a “Read Away the Weight” diet plan.

  7. Hilariously gross. And just in time for lunch!

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