Reminds me of some of the derelict buildings I have surveyed, where the only thing still living in them are pigeons. One had a pile of droppings three feet high just inside the front door, and the smell made me gag. Pigeons have fleas (among other things) and the fleas in here were just delighted to have different flesh to munch on and welcomed me with open jaws. I was in there for six hours, crunching on broken and rotten eggs, dead pigeons and pigeon poo. I went home, stripped off in the lobby and threw everything into the washing machine. I could see fleas leaping off me onto the floor. The next morning I too was covered in red bites. My sympathy, mate.