Herman had recently retired after more than forty years as an accountant and had undertaken a leisurely road trip through the southwest in search of an idyllic place to spend his golden years. His travels brought him to a small resort town in the Colorado Rockies, known for its spectacular views and for the numerous eagles that nest on the nearby peaks and ledges.

As luck would have it, there was a bird watchers’ convention in town that week, and all the hotel and motel rooms were booked, all except for one in a small boarding house on the edge of town. Desperate for a place to rest his weary bones, and hoping to explore the area as a possible retirement venue, he reluctantly accepted the modest accommodation.

No sooner was he unpacked when a huge eagle crashed through his window, crapped all over him, his bed, and his belongings, and then, just as suddenly, keeled over and died. Dripping with eagle guano, he went outside only to see another of the giant birds swoop down out of the sky, drenching him and his new Toyota in yet more excrement, and then, like the first bird, fall to the ground, dead. This happened a few more times, and, before long, the entire area was awash with eagle dung and littered with dead birds.

Having no place else to go, Herman angrily complained to the boarding house owner that, if this didn’t stop, he was going to sue the town for damages. The owner called the Mayor, who, being a loyal and well-connected Republican, called his contacts in Washington, who, excited about the possibility of an impending bird flu pandemic, notified the White House. President Bush immediately sent in a crack airborne sniper unit just home from Iraq, and, by the end of the day, the troops had tracked down all the remaining birds and shot them dead.

Needless to say, the bird watchers were furious and called their congress people, and the media, demanding an inquiry into what they deemed an overreaction to an isolated incident involving a few, possibly sick or, more likely, poisoned, birds. A congressional hearing was held, and CDC and other federal officials were called on the carpet, but no one could explain what had happened, or why. The talk shows were abuzz, conspiracy theories abounded, and animal rights activists and others screamed “cover up!”. There were even suggestions that the Bush administration had created the crisis to deflect the public’s attention from the war and other controversial or unpopular policy decisions. But the press wouldn’t let go, and, at the regularly scheduled White House press conference, reporters put the President’s feet to the fire, demanding an explanation.

How, asked veteran White House correspondent Helen Thomas, could the President, acting on the flimsiest of information and the sole complaint of an enraged boarding house guest, order such a draconian response?

“I thought you’d never ask,” the President drawled with his customary smirk. “It was the best way to keep ill eagles from crossing the boarder.”

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In North Platte now, can Cleveland, Ohio be far behind?