Pigeons
BLOGGER'S NOTE: As I am rather ignorant in the sexual identification of pigeon kind and since that is entirely irrelevant to the facts of my encounter today let us simply agree to refer to this individual pigeon as "he". Thank you for your understanding.
And now we return to our blog already in progress...
He was of average pigeon size, typically grey and slimey looking but with one distinguishing characteristic. His left foot was gone. I've seen this before, mutilated pigeons missing feet, eyeballs, injured wings and the like, but never close up. He had been less than a foot away from me. He was staring at me from his perch on top of a brick dividing wall, eyeing my hard earned M & M cookie with his round orange-red eye nervously strutting at my eye level.
His little nub sickened me. I could see the bone sticking out that should have been attached to a foot. Instead there was a gleaming white, rounded bone peaking out from underneath the bumpy red flesh that clung to it like dried latex. He hobbled around on top of the wall and though I did not hear an actual sound, my brain imagined a nauseating clicking sound with each alternating step like some unfortunate pigeon pirate on a peg leg. Poor little bastard, I thought, but you're not getting a crumb of my cookie with that hard luck routine so just be on your way.
It is so easy to forget that pigeons are actual living creatures. Their incredible success, vast numbers, and the can't-be-bothered-to-fly-away-so-I'll-just-walk-and-give-you-the-stink-eye attitude can fool a person into disregarding their individual experiences. I looked at this pigeon and wondered if he knew hunger. My automatic assumption is that he didn't. That his sad sack look was a Darwinian survival technique. After all- he's a New York pigeon and there should be more than enough trash to go around. New York pigeons don't starve, do they? Obviously, there must be some dangers in his life. He lost a foot.
And I thought pigeons had it made.
And now we return to our blog already in progress...
He was of average pigeon size, typically grey and slimey looking but with one distinguishing characteristic. His left foot was gone. I've seen this before, mutilated pigeons missing feet, eyeballs, injured wings and the like, but never close up. He had been less than a foot away from me. He was staring at me from his perch on top of a brick dividing wall, eyeing my hard earned M & M cookie with his round orange-red eye nervously strutting at my eye level.
His little nub sickened me. I could see the bone sticking out that should have been attached to a foot. Instead there was a gleaming white, rounded bone peaking out from underneath the bumpy red flesh that clung to it like dried latex. He hobbled around on top of the wall and though I did not hear an actual sound, my brain imagined a nauseating clicking sound with each alternating step like some unfortunate pigeon pirate on a peg leg. Poor little bastard, I thought, but you're not getting a crumb of my cookie with that hard luck routine so just be on your way.
It is so easy to forget that pigeons are actual living creatures. Their incredible success, vast numbers, and the can't-be-bothered-to-fly-away-so-I'll-just-walk-and-give-you-the-stink-eye attitude can fool a person into disregarding their individual experiences. I looked at this pigeon and wondered if he knew hunger. My automatic assumption is that he didn't. That his sad sack look was a Darwinian survival technique. After all- he's a New York pigeon and there should be more than enough trash to go around. New York pigeons don't starve, do they? Obviously, there must be some dangers in his life. He lost a foot.
And I thought pigeons had it made.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 5:50 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home