My aged companion Crisp spread our picnic lunch out on the grass below the giant stone eagle in the park.
It was a warm day we were having what Crisp called a lazy day.
Just as she took out the salad rolls she’d prepared a large drop of bird poo fell and landed on her head.
This took her by surprise and she squealed in shock. Looking up she asked: “Isn’t that a stone eagle?”
I replied it was but it was more likely a passing pigeon had deposited on her head.
“I have been psychologically damaged by an eagle.
Got attacked by an eagle once,” she said. “I was in Africa and it swooped down its claws trying to carry me away. I fought it off but scarred me for life.”
She cleaned herself up but still took a cautious look up before taking her first mouthful.