I have this weird fascination with pigeons. I don’t think I encountered very many in my youth so now that I’m in a city almost overrun with entitled pigeons, I can’t help but stare. I’ve gotten to know when a pigeon is posturing for a female or when a pigeon is eyeing a couple for their Subway sandwiches. There’s also a pigeon out there I call wigeon that’s somehow related to Robbie Williams. I have no recollection why they are connected in anyway.

I also have a theory that boils down to (what could be a catch phrase apparently) “pigeons have no feet.” Yes, you’ve seen pigeons with feet but they’re all crumbly or missing toes. It makes me feel for the pigeon, which based on my theory, makes me feel for all pigeons everywhere. It also seems that pigeons actually weren’t designed to eat. Ever seen one eat a piece of bread? They rip and throw for half an hour and only make it through 10% of a pizza. Survival rates must be low.

On a nicer point, isn’t it amazing they have this greenish-purple band around their necks? Such a dry, boring animal still has a burst of color on it. I’m more boring than a pigeon in terms of color. I only have brown eyes and brown hair with a hint of yellow skin. I don’t think it’s jaundice. It’s just my tint.

Anyway, give a pigeon more credit, everyone. Actually, I didn’t give many reasons why you should give pigeons credit so carry on, I guess.