An Albatross! OMFG...

Have you ever noticed sea birds drafting over cars on large bridges? I have.

I have also seen their dead bodies on the side of said bridges and wondered what exactly happened to cause such a thing?

And now I have a very exact answer.

There I was, driving on to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Minding my own business, I promise. I watched a large sea gull draft over the car in front of me in the left lane and then enter my lane. He tilted his leading wing towards my car, seemingly planning to draft over it. Just before he crossed my hood I thought of the large boat on the roof and its ropes. "He's awfully close, I hope" BANG! Thumping coming from the roof, and then out the rearview mirror I catch a glimpse of the fellow driving behind me, and his horrified face. An instant later I see a ball of white and grey feathers tumble to the side of the road, off the back of my car.

I did not swerve, nor step on the brakes. The bridge scares me enough. I knew I was going to hit him. I guess I hoped I would not but the loud bang confirmed his demise. I hope he was a young, unmarried bird. Hopefully I did not just orphan a whole family or leave a tearful bird widow.

I felt horrible driving home. I wanted to cry and maybe even wail a little. I kept thinking about that poem and the albatross. Bad juju, that. I tried to console myself with thoughts of Darwinism, maybe. I kept thinking "please don't let there be half a bird on my roof, caught up in the ropes," as my brain played out possible gory bird dissections.

When I stopped for gas I reluctantly looked over the car and the Romany. The boat is ivory, and was splattered in, well, bird blood and feathers. Lots of splatter, lots of feathers. Now the scientist in me comes out and I stand there wondering how there is blood on both sides of the boat? All the way from the front to the back, in an interesting spray pattern. The physics of the whole thing surprised me.

Then I got home and lowered the boat down on the Hullavator. There is more splatter, all over the top deck. HOW THE F**K DID THAT HAPPEN? I imagine the bird somersaulting over the boat, or maybe spinning. The husband suggested that the front rope cut him in half? Ugh. Gory bird dissections, indeed.

I took pictures, evidence of my bird-murdering Romany. I had recently given the boat a name. I named it Fenriss, after the wolf. Now I am thinking I should have named the boat Daisy. Superstitious and silly, I know.

And now, the photos? Nope. You do not want to see them. Although they do detail the odd spray pattern. Nope. Here instead, is a picture of our cat, Hobbe-zilla. Why the cat? Why not? Indeed.