Of Pigeons

As you are likely aware from the sweltering heat (unless you live in some remote research base in Antarctica) summer is finally upon us, in all of it's brutal, energy-draining, laziness inducing glory.

As such, my dorm chose it wise to kick all of its occupants out for no readily decent reason, and rather than living on the street, I've taken up residence in a rather nice little apartment complex run by my school (and paid for, like most of the things in my life, by the charity of my parents.)

It's a rather nice apartment--made for four people, I'm the only person currently living here, which makes it perfectly grand as I have limitless space to recklessly throw all my crap, and I even have a miniature kitchen where I can attempt to cook things and become frustrated at my lack of ingredients, forcing me to eat at Wendy's in shame.

I also have a balcony, which brings us to the subject of today's post--Pigeons. Specifically, two pigeons, a male and (presumably) a female, who have taken residence upon my balcony for reasons as of yet unclear. They built a nest under two plastic chairs that were lovingly placed out there for me to sit on, but I am unable to do so because they've shat all over them. Making the best of the situation, I've embraced my pigeon brethren, and have thus named them Jim and Juliet.

They live in general fear of me, as I am five times their height and far superior to them in every possible way, but in the name of good fellowship, I've taken to trying to strike an alliance with the pigeons, in hope of one day facilitating an army of feathered creatures to divebomb my enemies and strike fear into the hearts of all those who oppose me.

The alliance has been sealed with Ritz Crackers, of which I have a nigh-limitless supply, and are easily broken into crumbs and scattered about my balcony, where the pigeons may feast upon them with glee. Jim is the one I see--a big, fat pigeon who is slightly silver in color and has some weird gray thing on the bridge of his beak that looks like somebody choked up a piece of gum, left it in the sun for a few weeks, then glued it to him. The female pigeon is slightly thinner, more greenish and black, with a longer neck and is a lot shyer than Jim is--though both have a healthy fear of me, as they should because, as you all should know, I am TERRIFYING.

The fact that they have a nest under my chairs actually has made me pause and consider pigeons to be actual animals, birds even, that hatch out of eggs and do all sorts of other birdy stuff that we think of when we think of owls and sparrowhawks and vultures--the most prominent of the latter category being Hillary Clinton, who seems to regard all whom she sees as a particularly appetizing rotting gazelle carcass. I doubt that I shall see actual eggs in this nest, as summer doesn't seem like a season for mating, despite what Tijuana advertisements may lead you to believe, but the fact that pigeons do in fact make nests is all the more intriguing, as I had previously assumed that pigeons bred themselves through a form of parasitic mitosis, rising like the shambling undead from heaps of rubbish and garbage and the like, their eyes red and empty, devoid of compassion or the capacity for love, and their only single-minded goal in life to wander about parks and look at you placatingly, waiting for you to drop your crackers on the ground through some accident (or sabotage--who knows what those pigeons are really capable of) so that they can descend upon the shattered snack treat in a manner quite Hitchcock-esque to consume to their hearts content.

Jim and Juliet, compared to some room mates I could have, are quite pleasant company. They make no noise, they stay outside, they rarely move from their designated section of the balcony, and if i really desire for them to leave, I can simply wave my arms at them and they'll disperse. Pending the success of my attempted alliance with the lower rungs of the bird kingdom, I have begun to ready plans to lead a revolution for pigeons everywhere, overturning the harsh oligarchy formed by sparrows and mockingbirds, and as they feast upon their sundered carcasses, I shall stand supreme, King of the Pigeons, and soon, the World.