A number of years ago my neighbors decided to raise pigeons in a coop that was located very close to my driveway. (We’re talking a poorly-zoned suburban setting here.) On hot summer days the coop wafted really nasty pigeon poop smells into my yard and worse if my screen doors and windows were open. From time to time, these good folks would cull their pigeon flock in a gruesome backyard event by butchering and freezing the tiny birds, a practice with which I have no problem if you happen to be living on a farm or in the country. The pigeon flock was frequently freed from the coop in an effort to enforce the homing instinct, or, I suppose, to exercise the flesh before committing to the freezer.
Unfortunately, the pigeons always seemed to find their way home, much to the dismay of the entire neighborhood.
On one such day, I neglected to close my vehicle’s windows, which resulted in a flurry of mysterious white droppings and pigeon feathers scattered all over my back seat, and hours of cleanup effort. Seems like one of those damned pigeons made a shortcut visit before returning to the coop. About two weeks later I began to notice a very unpleasant odor whenever using the vehicle. I searched everywhere, but discovered nothing. The odor soon subsided.
A year passed. That’s when I discovered a tiny, mummified pigeon carcass stuffed underneath the front passenger seat.
So much for shortcut visits before returning to the coop.