Pigeon

I’m trying to keep up with The Blog, but there’s this pigeon.  When I’m on the laptop, I’m facing the doors out on to the garden and I can see this:

And every time, this pigeon with fluffy legs flies down and lands on the metal hook and tries to reach the bird feeder.

And every time, just as it reaches the angle where maybe, maybe it could reach the feeder, it overbalances.  It tries every time, but it always ends up here:

with no food.

And I swear, that damn pigeon…

It gets to me, man.

I’m a sucker. 

It’s like the wasps.

One morning, several years ago, I woke up.

And noticed something was different.

Definitely different.

Turns out there was a wasps’ nest in the guttering outside The Window and the wasps could get into The Room through holes in the wall around the windowsill.  The Choices were to call an exterminator or to live with the wasps.

I lived with the wasps.

And they never stung me.  Not once.

When I was about four or five or something, there was a wasp in the playground at school and all the children tried to kill it, and I stopped them and protected the wasp for the whole of playtime.  I like to think since then we’ve had an agreement. 

Although I still run like hell when I see one.

Damn it.  I’m going to have to put out some birdseed now.