I was always told never to pick-up feathers growing up because they were covered with diseases and feces by my Mother. At the time she said this I was probably eyeballing some icky twice-run-over, dirt-bag pigeon feathers in a Dunkin Doughnuts parking lot or something as I was eating my second Boston Creme standing next to the '82 white Buick Skylark my parents owned at the time.
I turn my back for a second and Tanner has these seagull feathers that Jen gave her and I want to grab them away and say, "NO! Bad Baby! These are covered in poo and bird flu - you can't have them!" Then she starts trying to fly around and it's great and Jen points out this is the Oregon coast, not a fast-food parking lot in Plainville, CT.