31 Days Unvarnished Day 31 {Appropriate}

At the beginning of this little series, I promised a story so outlandish and revolting it can hardly be true.  I would like to take credit for how appropriate it feels to post this on Halloween.  Seems awfully well timed to tell the grossest, most expected event ever on our farm.  I'm delighted I only have to share what happened it; that I didn't have to suffer a single drop or drab of the indignation.  

I didn't write the blow by blow of what transpired on this particular summer morning, my Daddy did.  I did however stand in shocked horror reading it in my kitchen just a few minutes after it all happened:  

When I got to the barn, both doors of the blue Ford pickup, aka, Papa Smurf, were standing open.  I thought that was a little odd.  Odder still, our farm helper, Chris was standing there, wet from his neck to his shoes, and laughing.  My son, Wright, was also wet, and grumpy.  Curious, I asked for the explanation.

The cool morning of 30 August 2011 promised the autumn to come.  Early in the day Wright and Chris were out in Papa Smurf.  So were the buzzards, those notorious early risers.

Wright was driving Papa Smurf with a load of pig buckets in the back, filled with swill.  Of course, they drove with windows open in the cool morning air.  Beside the road, buzzards were feeding in the cool morning dew.

Without warning, a buzzard took off on the passenger side, lost his way, and flew clean into the Papa Smurf’s window, practically into Chris’s lap.  At this point you must bear in mind that buzzards have only one way to protect themselves.  Not claws, not beaks, not beating you with their wings, only projectile vomiting.  It usually works.

Judging from the pink & white patches of stuff still clinging to the inside walls of Papa Smurf, this particular buzzard projected quite a bit of vomit.  At this point, you must also know that Wright has a very sensitive gag reflex.  He can’t even change a diaper without gagging. Suddenly into his lap jump clots of odoriferous buzzard vomit.

Which set Wright to vomiting, erasing all benefit of his breakfast.

Really odd.  I never heard of a buzzard doing that before.

Wright was not amused hours later when I asked him to recount the entire event, again. 

I dare say, even your #1 worst morning ever cannot come close to an encounter with vulture vomit.

Lib 
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