Dearly beloved, I have come here today to write in defence of pigeons. Specifically, feral pigeons, those modern descendants of the domesticated type. Wood and other wild pigeons are fine and all that, but I do not speak of them here. Feral pigeons, or pidgepots as I like to call them, are some of the most memorable birds that one is likely to encounter in a grimy inner-city environment. I should know, given that I spend at least an hour every day feeding them. My love of pidgerooskis started unintentionally. As I have elsewhere reported, I accidentally installed Pigeon TV from the Lidl in my flat a few years ago. Whilst I have moved onto a direct feeding mechanism (i.e. my hand out the window and/or seeds left on the windowsill), Pigeon TV enabled me to form a lasting bond with three pigeons in particular: Axe Neck, Brownie, and Whitey. However,
This is known locally as The Wizard’s Tombstone, because that’s actually what it is. It’s an interdimensional marker which blends in by taking the form of a common warning sign. So in this dimension it looks like a traffic cone, but in another it would look like something quite different. I can’t help you imagine what, as I am from this dimension and I am not sure what common warning markers look like in other dimensions. Any attempt I make at a description would likely be hopelessly inaccurate. Let’s think about it a little. Warning markers in this dimension come in a wide variety of types: prickly spines, too good to be true handsome types, unseasonably yellowing leaves, top marks on everything, bottom marks on everything, and switching cat tails. So a warning marker elsewhere could be anything from a pebble to a peach to a piranha. The problem with warning
One of the most beautiful things about nature, is that it forces you to reevaluate what you think you know. For instance, when I moved into my flat, I bought a large rug for my living room. Or rather, I should say I *thought* I bought a large rug for my living room but it turns out that it wasn’t a rug at all. It was actually a large, floor-based, cat scratching pad. Silly me! What did I know in the face of such obvious feline determination to demonstrate how wrong I was. Similarly, the Lidl was recently selling what I believed to be a small bird feeder which sticks on your window. As I have a flock of goldfinches living in the trees by my flat, I naively thought I could use this “small bird feeder” to attract these beautiful little birds closer to my window. So I bought the