I found this posted on AudioKarma and just had to share.

I have no idea if it's true or not or who the original author is.

A Motorcycle Yarn
A bad day to ride a motorcycle...
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect…I was on Brice Street – a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car.
I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it – it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to its feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the V-star with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for "Bonsai!" or maybe "Die you gravy-sucking heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular…..as he shot straight up, flew over my headlight, and impacted me squarely in the chest.
Instantly, he threw down on me. If I did not know any better, I would've thought he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing…
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should've done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel should have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.
But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary peeved-off squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and amazing impact, landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.
I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a V-star can only have one effect. Torque. This is what the V-star is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared and the front tire left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The V-star screamed in ecstacy. I screamed in….well….I just screamed. Like a little pregnant dog, I screamed.
Now, picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really didn't want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle….my brain was simply overloaded.
I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway, he began hissing in my face.
I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however.
The RPMs on the V-star maxed out (since I was not bothering to shift at the moment) so her front started to drop. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedy-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of a mostly closed full-face helmet.
By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand…I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to my left as hard as I could. This time it worked…..sort of.
Spectacularly sort of…so to speak. Picture a new scene. You are a cop.
You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all of his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine…I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would've returned to fess up (and get my glove back). I really would have. Really. Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment.
When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open.
The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street and was aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me, shooting me the finger…..
That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car…..but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, mad a gentle right turn off Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of leather gloves. And a box of Band-Aids.

ROTFLMFAO!

I've read the squirrel story before and I still laugh every time I read it. They are evil creatures hell bent on world domination. I had one try to jump on my bike as I passed him. Soooo thankful for steel toe boots  

Once in Arkansas we rode thru a stretch where thousands of black birds were flying out of the bushes on both sides of the road.  At the time we were riding Venture Royales, which have considerable fairing protection.   Still, there were so many birds that our visibility was actually impaired, and I remember hearing...   thump, thump... thathump, thathathump, and looking in my rear view I saw many birds down and spinning around in the wake of my bike.

I can't imagine having an angry eagle in my lap and be trying to fly and not get a throat ripped out.. oh.. awful deal..

Got my first motorbike bee sting this morning, had the flip part of the helmet up and the poor thing flew in. He's dead I was sore, thankfully it wasn't a wasp.