December 13, 2005

Pigeons

Pigeons have roosted outside of my window. Well, all of my windows really; and I suppose I wouldn't mind so much if they weren't so damn loud. The incessant cooing. For god sake. And the sound increases exponentially as more pigeons gather together on the sill - gradually building into a cooing crescendo until I am frozen in Hitchcockian horror at the unimaginable din just outside my window.

My greatest fear is that I will push the shade aside and see the entire window pane filled with pigeons staring back at me. Accusing. Demanding entry. Or perhaps just one giant pigeon with fire red eyes fogging up the window glass with his hot bird breath.

For now I devote a few minutes each morning to tap on the window and send them scattering across to the other side of the street where they will become someone elses problem for a little while. But I know they'll come back after I leave. I am sure they are very familiar with my schedule by now. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a pigeon stationed above the subway entrance to give the high sign when I descend in the morning on the way into Manhattan. At that point they know that have a couple of hours of relief before I come back and start tapping on the window again.