Last year I wrote from my depressing apartment in Berlin, “For the past few weeks, every morning I’ve been watching mummy pigeon sit on her nest of baby pigeon eggs outside my bedroom window. These have been the best days of my life, even when daddy pigeon stopped flying over with worms.
But I have very sad news. Today, I went to get my bike from the courtyard where mummy pigeon lives, and baby pigeon was dead (without his head). Mummy pigeon has gone. I don’t know where. But I do know that I hate the bloody cat who lives in the yard, and his stupid cat smile. I hate him so much.
Mummy pigeon, if you’re reading this, I miss you and I’m really sorry. You’re the only one in Berlin who is having a worse day than me. But my spirits have been lifted by this blog written by a pigeon. His name is Brian. He’s pretty cool. He just met a half decent sea gull called Boris. http://pigeonblog.wordpress.com.”
My love for pigeons is sincere, and makes for more joyful travels. For the past few months, I’ve been camping around Mexico. Whenever I’ve felt lost or sad or lonely, I can just head to a sunny plaza, sit on a park bench next to old men with freckled hands and kissing couples, and watch the flocks of pigeons totter around.
I love the little toddlers who charge through the birds, because I know what they’re thinking. “We’re the Kings and Queens of the Pigeons, out of my way, you cooeing minions!”
Pigeons aren’t popular. “They’re the rats of the sky!” says everyone, ever. I can’t help but wonder if we feel uncomfortable around pigeons because they’re too much like us, thriving in the filth and grime of the city.
Anyway, my next dream trip? It has to be Pigeon Valley, Cappadocia. Wow.