Sunday, 27 July 2008


The is something about Pigeons that I find funny. They are a hated race. I love the wood-pigeon couple who live in the tree at the bottom of my garden. They are hildarious. I love the way Pigeons walk, with bobbing heads, and the way that they jump up ledges and curbs, a kind of gracious, yet clumsy, pigeon-hop.

Pigeons are not perfect. They do leave a bit of a mess behind sometimes, and I have been told that they cary disease. These facts stop me from truly liking pigeons.

But I do feel a large amount of sympathy, for in London, around one in three pigeons is suffering from some kind of injury. Deformed, or mutildated feet most often. Poor pigeons. But after limping along, with pain in every step, they spread wings and fly. I wish I could fly, but that is a whole other post...

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