CLEARING THE YUCK

This is a story about bird excrement that has a happy ending.

But first, a bit of background.

You have to understand about skating. Clean, smooth and cold, the ice itself has a lot to do with the appeal.

Sure, the swaying side-to-side rhythms and scrunch scrunch scrunch of self-powered motion over a slick sheet of frozen water can be a satisfying physical experience. But the elemental aesthetics are what make skating a winter classic.

Simultaneously forbidding and inviting, there’s something about ice — something pure yet tempting.

But at the Ice Palace at Riverfront Park, they’ve had this little problem.

Since the open-air rink’s low-level roof was constructed in the early ‘80s, birds had been roosting and nesting directly above the ice surface. This, of course, led to a steady drizzle of digestive droppings raining down onto the white ice.

It was disgusting.

Because the feces fallout was so relentless, the scat couldn’t all be swept aside or shoveled off the ice in a timely fashion.

So a portion of it just sat there, in a variety of forms. Some of it looked like moistened cigar ashes or gooey pellets. Other chilled droppings resembled spilled soup, baby vomit or garbage barrel sludge.

And some of it became entombed during the ice-resurfacing process. That gave stretches of the skating surface a greenish brown hue that, frankly, took the shine off any winter wonderland vibe.

Certain parts of the ice sheet looked like pigeon-poop popsicles. Or you-know-what under glass.

Get the picture? As winter scenes go, we’re not talking Currier and Ives lithographs here.

A few skaters complained. Most shrugged and tried not to wipe out in places that would leave smelly stains on their apparel.

Regulars mostly didn’t talk about it.

To be fair, only a relatively small percentage of the rink was messed up. It wasn’t like you couldn’t enjoy the place.

Still, over the years, the park’s staff tried all sorts of tactics to shoo the apparently well-fed birds. A partial list of ploys includes: rubber snakes, stuffed owls, avian-aversion electronic sounds, chemical repellents and various wire screens.

They even trapped a few pigeons and tried a relocation program.

A plan to introduce falcons to the scene was shelved.

In short, nothing worked.

The rink continued to be a bird latrine.

Then, last year, the park staff learned of a special kind of snug mesh netting that the feathered befoulers might not be able to circumvent. It was installed over the underside of the roof last fall.

The result has been a miracle on ice.

Now you can step onto the waste-free skating surface and see only shine and sparkle. It’s a wonderful thing.

No more scoping out the trouble spots at the beginning of a skating session. No more grimacing when wiping off your skate blades at the end.

If you beat the crowd and your skates are sharp, you can trace razory lines over the pristine ice. Pushing, gliding, leaning, you can take liberties with the physics of friction and feel your edges bite the frozen floor.

Depending on the slant of the sunlight, the white arcs in your wake can be subtle or luminous.

But now the only other colors on the ice are the blue and red hockey lines.

There has been a bloodless coup at the Ice Palace. The birdbrains have been overthrown.

It’s a new ice age at Riverfront Park and happy skaters rule.