I always find the dead things.

It's spring. May. Flowers are blooming, the sun is shining. It's a beautiful day in Philadelphia. I just got back from Miami where the Exxxotica convention is wrapping up. Riley Steele and I went skinny dipping in the ocean, by the way.

"Pictures or it didn't happen?"

I know that's what you're thinking.  You (collectively, the internet) always say it. Asking for, demanding pictures. No amount of photo documentation seems to slake your thirsty eyeballs. And there are pictures. I'm just not posting them. They're on someone else's camera. Maybe they'll surface later, but it's more likely that I'll forget to go back and put them up.

Back to this whole beautiful spring day thing:

So I'm wandering around my apartment with a camera (film, just learning how to use it) taking photographs of random stuff. Maybe the fire escape could be interesting. I unlock the door, walk out, and step in dead bird.

One dead bird. There were two. I took a picture of the un-squished one.

There aren't any visible nests around. I don't know much about birds, so now I'm really curious. These guys are about as long as my thumb. They don't look like they were ready to fly. How did they get there?