Monday, January 18, 2010

Carnivorous Pigeons!

Today I saw something truly horrifying: a gathering of pigeons fighting over a fallen piece of gyro meat.

Granted, I’ve had street cart meat before and it’s admittedly pretty tasty (especially around 2 a.m. after enjoying entirely too many PBRs…) So it wasn’t shocking to me that the pigeons found the fallen meat delicious, because it is. However, it was completely petrifying to discover that pigeons eat meat.

A little background information: I already have what my friends call an “irrational” fear of pigeons. Well, I pretty much fear all birds after in a temporary lapse of good parental judgment my father let me watch Hitchcock’s The Birds as an eleven-year-old child.

But, I hate pigeons the most and I think it’s entirely rational. Pigeons are dirty and carry diseases and, in New York anyway, have no fear of the human race. Which is why I think they should relax their gun laws here and allow hunting in Central Park. I know, New Yorkers, I know. Guns are the root of all evil. I’m just saying, I never had a pigeon fly into my arm while running the Katy Trail in Dallas.

That’s happened to me a total of two times since I’ve been here. After both incidents I was sure I would die immediately or have to amputate a limb or both. Thankfully, the only real consequence was a bad case of nerves and a temporary bout of Tourettes (at least that’s how I explained my colorful post-pigeon-impact outburst to the eight-year-old’s mom).

But today’s carnivorous pigeon sighting proves that in my past two encounters I narrowly escaped certain death. No one is safe. If pigeons have started experimenting with street meat, where does it stop? How long before they make the jump to human flesh? There’s more of it available and we’re completely outnumbered. We wouldn’t stand a chance.

These last paragraphs go out to the eighty-year-old pigeon lady who comes by Blockheads every morning around 10 a.m. Yes, I’m talking to you with the dyed-pink/red hair, and the fur coat, and the bag of bird seed you fling over World Wide Plaza with a scowl on your face like you hate that it’s your job to feed those goddamned ungrateful birds. You, Pigeon Lady, are our only hope.

Speak to your friends. Tell them they can always count on your bird seed. They don’t have to turn to flesh for sustenance. You may be eighty but from the bitterness in your eyes anyone can see you have another 20 years in you. That’s two more decades of free, vegetarian meals for our feathered friends.

Please, be our ally. Or we’re all doomed.

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