Musings at Altitude

My son’s car was out in the driveway today, causing all the pigeons to think we were inside the house.  I drove up and found one sneaky bird just waiting to drop a bomb on us when we left:

When I took the dad gum dog out last night for its evening sniff around the yard, 2 pigeons were nestled comfortably in a crook in one of the rain drains coming right down by our front porch steps.  They didn’t budge as I walked towards them, though they did glare at me for interrupting whatever quaint little interlude they were enjoying. 

When I left the house this morning, at least 8 pigeons were scoffing at me from our roof.  When I loudly smacked my hands to scare them off, they flew in an 8-bird formation right over the top of my head.  I ducked.  I knew what they were capable of.  But they held their bombs obviously knowing that they would need full arsenals when the war resumed.

I get the sense that our roof with all the little cozy crannies in it is the equivalent of a pay-by-the-hour hotel for these way-too-comfortable pigeons.

This pigeon over the door is obviously taking this war to a very different and very devious level.  I fully suspect that this particular act is a direct response to my wife’s relentless effort to shoot the little buggers with her water gun, and I would not be surprised that this is one of the birds that took the force of the water broadside just the other night.  But when putting both of these in the proper scale, the water gun is a non-lethal weapon.  Bird droppings are lethal.  They’ve raised the weapons race to a very lethal level.

It’s time for me to invest in a new, very powerful, maybe very lethal weapon in this war!