Call of the Wild

There are many things you can experience on a run that one otherwise would not, especially when it comes to mother Earth. Living in Florida, I've seen many things - I've seen sea turtles and manatees. I've seen dolphins playing and sting rays trolling along right beneath the surface. Once when I was up in the Poconos on a trail run, I came across a few deer, and then later a huge wild turkey standing in the middle of the trail. I was so freaked out I had to turn around - that turkey did not look like it was going to move, and I was not about to pick a fight with him and his large talons.

Would you mess with this guy?

And there are always birds - Pelicans, Egrets, and Cranes. But let's talk about the Pelicans for a moment.

Pelicans are probably my favorite bird here in Florida. I like watching them dive bomb into the Bay to catch fish, and they are always very photogenic and will pose for pictures while perched on the boat dock. They are almost cute in a weird way. 

But, as it turns out, they have a dark side.

I was on my long run this past Sunday, admiring the water and watching the birds fly by. I had my headphones in, jamming out to Afrojack and feeling pretty good. The sun was rising so it was starting to get really hot. Out of nowhere, I felt what I believed were large raindrops on the back of my leg.

My first reaction was YES it's my lucky day - there is rain coming to help cool me off! But, as I looked up for the rain cloud, all I saw was sunshine. And a flock of Pelicans.

I glanced back down to the pavement to continue my run. Like a WWII military bomber, these Pelicans have attacked the sidewalk with torpedoes of poo. And sure enough, when I turned around to look at my calf, the evidence was clear -- they were trying to take my legs out. 

At first I was super irritated - how dare this feathered creature interrupt my important Sunday long run with his nasty habits. I tried not to gag and hopped to the nearest inlet of the Bay to rinse off the Pelican bullets. And then for some reason, I just laughed. Not just a giggle, like deep-belly-almost-to-tears laughing.

A Pelican pooped on me, and not only did I live to tell the tale, but I thought it was hilarious.

Thank you, Mr. Pelican, for allowing me to laugh at myself. Sometimes we all need that.