The pigeons are feeling it

The pigeons are drunk on love right now and not paying attention to anything rational. On a walk to the bank last week, I accidentally kicked a wayward pigeon. I secretly wished the accidental kick had been on purpose. You will hopefully acquit me of cruelty when I tell you that pigeons think my balcony is their latrine. A friend of mine said that for my birthday this year, "I am going to buy you a pen full of pigeons..." As I rolled my eyes in disgust, he finished the sentence: "...and a machine gun." This is the guy who (because of an infestation problem) once strapped fireworks to a few pigeons, let them fly high, high, into the sky, and then watched them go POOF!

Anyway, I've been observing pigeons a lot lately in parallel to the changing season--all lovey-dovey and paired up, huddled close together on the rooftops, the guy ruffling his feathers to show his girl that he's big and strong (like bull), and the gal purposefully ignoring him, only increasing the intensity of his admiration for her. I got to thinking just how dumb and dull-witted creatures become in love.

I think soon the pigeons will calm down and start laying their eggs (I can't stand the thought of pigeon multiplication, but I suppose I can imagine that their spawn is a tiny bit cute when they first hatch), assume their parental responsibility, and trade the love feasts for early nights, worm gathering, and flying lessons. But the season of twitterpation is definitely upon them, and I find that, despite myself, I'm happy for this their brief and blissful season of amour.