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I love birds.
I hate pigeons.
Winged rats. Dirty messy creatures that settle en masse and produce copious amounts of filth. Genetically abnormal creatures that are products of our industrial ecosystem created hundreds of years ago. The other week I was walking Sophie in the vacant lot and saw two pigeons eating remnants of a piece of fried chicken. They were eating another bird. That's not right. Another sign of their seriously devolved DNA. They're going to get Mad Pigeon Disease.
Our new house is right up again another two flat, with the exception of a few feet between the angled windows. The bedroom chosen to be our office has one of these windows, which lets in only limited amount of sunlight and gives an upclose view of this narrow brick shaft, which is also the home of many pigeons. Several dark grey ones, but also many white ones with dark patches of color. They sit on the windowsill, feathers puffed out. When I was down in the basement, there's a window by the washer that opens to the bottom of the shaft, where several of them were roosting around, pecking at each, probably doing mating and wrestling, active until I approached the glass and the froze. When I tap on any of the windows, they hesitate before moving, and even then they don't go far. They jump across to another ledge, then come back when I leave. Same when Sophie jumps up to look at them. They've been in this spot long enough to nearly lose their fear of the humans and animals on the other side of the glass.
But over the weekend, while sleeping in the couch in the early mornings or even in the afternoon when napping, I would lie in the sun and near-silence, the only noise being the low soft cooing of the birds. The trait coming from non-mutated genes that originated from doves. I didn't want to like it, but I couldn't help be lulled.
And so maybe, I don't hate these pigeons as much for being what they are.
I hate pigeons.
Winged rats. Dirty messy creatures that settle en masse and produce copious amounts of filth. Genetically abnormal creatures that are products of our industrial ecosystem created hundreds of years ago. The other week I was walking Sophie in the vacant lot and saw two pigeons eating remnants of a piece of fried chicken. They were eating another bird. That's not right. Another sign of their seriously devolved DNA. They're going to get Mad Pigeon Disease.
Our new house is right up again another two flat, with the exception of a few feet between the angled windows. The bedroom chosen to be our office has one of these windows, which lets in only limited amount of sunlight and gives an upclose view of this narrow brick shaft, which is also the home of many pigeons. Several dark grey ones, but also many white ones with dark patches of color. They sit on the windowsill, feathers puffed out. When I was down in the basement, there's a window by the washer that opens to the bottom of the shaft, where several of them were roosting around, pecking at each, probably doing mating and wrestling, active until I approached the glass and the froze. When I tap on any of the windows, they hesitate before moving, and even then they don't go far. They jump across to another ledge, then come back when I leave. Same when Sophie jumps up to look at them. They've been in this spot long enough to nearly lose their fear of the humans and animals on the other side of the glass.
But over the weekend, while sleeping in the couch in the early mornings or even in the afternoon when napping, I would lie in the sun and near-silence, the only noise being the low soft cooing of the birds. The trait coming from non-mutated genes that originated from doves. I didn't want to like it, but I couldn't help be lulled.
And so maybe, I don't hate these pigeons as much for being what they are.
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