another entry about pigeons seems a little excessive, but life knows nothing about my blogging…
i was walking home from BART yesterday, minding my own business, when suddenly i heard the familiar sound of a pigeon in distress. i’m used to this sound by now, given my previous close encounter with these avian feces peddlers. what are the odds that i should have two pigeon close encounters in as many weeks?
the source of the distress was easy enough to find…sitting on a Victorian doorstep in front of me, naked to the world and its evils, sat a baby pigeon. this one was a little older than the one i had tried to rescue (in vain), but it was just as helpless. aside from the desperate ‘cheeps’ coming from this fuzzy grey prey, i heard the voices of its brethren nearby. tilting my head to the heavens, i saw the perch from which it had fallen – a ledge on the Victorian in front of me. i could see its parent in the makeshift nest, powerless to do anything about its offspring far below (and apparently oblivious as well).
it seems that pigeons falling from their nests is a common occurrence, which makes me wonder, where the hell do they all come from? if half of them fall out of their nests, and others get picked off by crows before they even hatch, it seems that the whole survival-of-the-fittest thing puts them pretty low on the survival totem pole, so to speak.
the surviving sibling from my previous encounter is still in the nest, unable or unwilling to fly away. its buddies keep falling out of their nests, subject to the whims of gravity and the like. these birds don’t really seem engineered to survive, and yet they’re everywhere, cooing and pooing and giving contractors a reason to build those nasty spikes you see on ledges all over the place.
what gives? i’m open to your theories…
This work, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.