Don’t expect much in the way of variety of scene over the next few days. I spent all the month’s money in Cornwall, and payday is keenly awaited. Even the pigeon turns away somewhat disdainfully from the camera as I try to inject some interest.
This pigeon nest has been under observation for a couple of days now, seeing as it resides just above the outdoor seating area in the pub, and for the duration, this fledgling has been receiving plenty of encouragement to leave it. Every so often it comes out, slithers around on the roof tile (some seven feet above the ground) for a while, cheeps in an alarmed fashion, then goes back inside. Mum, or possibly Dad, seems to be getting rather fed up with the whole thing. I can’t say I blame it. My one was off like a shot, first chance he got.
The working week ends as it started — with a bird photo-bombing the shot. But I like it.
The message on the one side is clear enough — but the bin? More proof that others are starting to lose it thanks to lockdown? Or perhaps they have always been the same.
Tensions are clearly running high in the ongoing pigeon-duck war. With negotiations having broken down, the pigeon high command has sent out a brave scout to keep an eye on the mallards. But what it hasn’t spotted is the counter-espionage agent sneaking in from the left.
This somewhat alarming example of the taxidermist’s ‘art’ was on display at the flea market in Hebden Bridge this afternoon. So many questions are begged I am not sure I know where to start. The rather evil-looking rodent descending from top left raises its own issues, too.
Evidence of new tactics in the ongoing pigeon-duck conflict. “Hah. I knew this camouflage would eventually come in useful. Now I can spy on the ducks without fear of detection.”
“Er… Bob? The feet?”
“Oh bugger.”
One of those pictures where I didn’t really notice the details until it was ‘developed’ (that is, uploaded to the laptop). I thought the pigeon was actually a traffic camera until I looked more closely.
I can see no explanation for the burst of feathers on the neck of this pigeon than it has recently had an extremely close encounter with some kind of ballistic missile — a piece of shot, an air rifle pellet — not unlike (in pigeon terms) one of those stories where a WW1 trenches veteran got his cigarette case taken neatly out but he survived. Or Steve Buscemi’s character in Fargo (if you’ve seen it, you know). I apologise to the paid-up members of the Society Avoiding Cruelty to Pigeons on behalf of the perpetrator, but I didn’t do it, honestly, I’m just documenting.
Exactly what this biker and this pigeon were finding to talk about this afternoon by the Hebden old bridge, I have no idea — but there is clearly some communication here.
Being 42 