Angry Birds

It is only a matter of time before I get completely annihilated with bird shit. Exhibit A, the Common Grackle:

Pete and I first took note of this heinous creature after avoiding a number of dead carcases scattered about a street corner. Is this some kind of Avian Armageddon? 

Soon thereafter, we observed their behavior as a flock at H.E.B., the grocery store we frequent. Grackles tend to congregate in large (nay, massive) swarms known as, I shit you not, a Plague. A plague on all our houses.  

They were everywhere. Each and every power line was covered in bird. The trees were full. Street lights were over-crowded. The noise level, horrendous. It's like a guttural, whistling, choking cough, repeated a million times over. 

And when one gets frightened, they all flee, blanketing the sky with their strangely beautiful dance. Then you observe all the folks below. They start walking faster, looking for cover. No one really wants to look up in awe, for fear of getting shit in their eye. Some people are snapping photos. Many are laughing, nervously. It's quite surreal. A scene straight from Hitchcock:

Until recently, I thought I was generally in the clear. We shop for groceries but once a week and for most of the chaos, we remain sheltered by the roof of our car. The threat of poop wasn't really real, you know?

And then, all of a sudden, these damn grackles show up at my bus stop for work. Everything's fine and dandy when I bike to my bus stop. But going home is absolutely terrifying. The sounds of splatting poop all around me is unnerving, to say the least. 

To make matters worse, I park my bike under one of the grackle-infested trees due to the lack of bike racks here in Austin. I've already had to scrape bird shit off my seat with a key. 

As of today, I've made it out of the hot zone free of any hits. Let's just hope these birds don't conspire to use me as target practice.