A couple of summers ago, we had a show on a Sunday morning just over the border, in Woodstock, New Brunswick.  For some reason, only Naomi and I went, which is not all that uncommon.  We crossed into Canada without a problem, did a church service at a Wesleyan church, and headed back to Maine.  At the border, coming back into the USA, the border guard was appalled to see that we had our dove with us.  "You can't bring a bird across the border!"

"But," I replied, "He's an American bird.  We just brought him in to do a magic show.  He's only been in Canada for about three hours!"

We were told we needed to go back to Canada until Tuesday, when the border vet would be in his office.  "Border vet?"

Obviously, we couldn't stay in Canada for two extra days, so the guard told us to park our van and come inside.  "But the bird stays in the van!"

We were at a small town border crossing on a Sunday morning, so as we entered the building, we were the talk of the border.  "He has a bird!  they're the ones with the bird!"  they whispered.  Instead of fear or shame, Naomi and I came down with a severe case of the giggles.  Border guards, it would seem, don't like the giggles.

After being yelled at a little by a guard who was built a little like Fred Flintstone, we decided we would bring our dove back to Canada and see if anyone at the church would take care of him until Tuesday.  We drove back to the church, but it was locked and noone was around.  We left salt on the porch of the church with a note, reminiscent of Little Orphan Annie. 

We returned to the border and told the guards that we left the bird with some friends, and we passed into the states without a problem.  But we still needed to get Salt back from our neighbors to the north.  That's another whole story... to be continued.