(Post title to be sung to the tune of the "Muppet Babies" theme song. You know you want to. I am.
Pigeon babieeeees)
Here's a fun fact about me: I hate pigeons. And more than that - I not only hate pigeons, I'm scared of them. I can't remember the origin of my pigeon-phobia (and it's only of pigeons, not of all birds) but I do know that every time I get near them, which is quite often in this city, I move farther away, the corners of my mouth start to slowly turn down and I keep a watchful eye on my feathery foes for any sudden movements (a pigeon hit me in the face once. It was traumatic.) So of course I was a little unsettled when I noticed a couple of pigeons chillin' on the railing to my apartment's balcony. They'd just sit there. And watch me. A few days later I noticed something odd - an assortment of twigs on the balcony that hadn't been there before.
And then one of the pigeons started to sit on the twigs
By this point I knew something was up - the pigeons were definitely nesting on our balcony. When I saw an egg, I knew for sure. My roommate and I were going to be foster parents. To a pigeon baby. Now every time I look out on to the balcony this is what I see.
 |
The face of true evil parenthood |
From my google searches of 'pigeon gestation' (and I really hope I start seeing adds based on that search) it shouldn't be too long until we have a little feathery bundle of joy...and until I start being scared of it
