Pigeons get slammed all the time, don’t they? Rats with wings, right? We all hate them, don’t we?
They surround you by the hundreds when you happen to sit in a piazza accidentally dropping crumbs from that freshly baked, crispy-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside baguette.
Like you’re in a Hitchcock movie, only without the special effects.
They poop all over your car windows, usually in the center of whatever spot you need to look out of.
Who knows what nasty diseases they might be carrying.
Then I noticed that even though we don’t have large piazzas or fabulous baguettes on this island, we do have a healthy pigeon population.
I’ll admit, at first, it was cute. Cute to see these gigantor birds descend and try to eat from our feeder that was obviously not made for a creature this size.
Cute to hear coo-coo, coo-coo in the trees around our house.
But then, I noticed that they are the bird equivalent of teenage boys on the high school basketball team.
They eat all the bird food.
And want more. Pigs with wings, I say.
And while waiting to push their cousins off the feeder, they poop on my tiny box of lettuces I’m trying to not to kill.
And even if they are not eating all the food and pooping out all the food, there is this pigeon:
This pigeon doesn’t want to eat or poop; he wants to drive a bus, stay up late, and get a puppy.
And this pigeon is just as aggravating, or more so, than the live pigeons. Why?
Because this pigeon is able to take bedtime and turn it into a scream-a-thon as the Kid argues with the pigeon.
Over and over.
I may ban this pigeon from the house for infinity.
He makes all that cooing and bird crap appealing.
Are there any books you can’t stand at bedtime or anytime?