Just for the sake of argument, let’s say you’ve got an average-sized head. And let’s agree that you spend an average amount of time outdoors. And the skies above you have an average number of birds flying about.

How many times, in an average lifetime, should you expect to be shat upon by birds?

I don’t know of any peer-reviewed research on this question, but I’ve enjoyed this dubious honor no less than a dozen times – and often at pivotal moments (twice, upon setting out for on a long journey: hitching from New York to Alaska and a year in Asia). This strikes me (pardon the pun) as being rather a lot.

Statistically, someone has to be at the upper end of the Bell curve, so I guess it’s just my destiny to receive the droppings of our avian friends. But scientist though I am (on paper, anyway), I admit that I’ve often pondered the hidden meaning of all this bird-shit.

I know it’s supposed to be good-luck, according to many cultural traditions. When I worked with a lot of Orthodox Jews in New York’s Diamond District, I was often assured that my tendency to attract bird droppings from above and dog turds from below was proof of my good fortune. But I wonder …