Back to the Balcony of Dead and Living Pigeons

Yes. Back in Belfast. Although it was Derry and Donegal as well. Left Cuba on Sunday, arrived in Ireland on Monday. Got to stop travelling late Monday evening. And since then, I've been a ragged ball of sleepiness, swollen sinuses and the skitter.

And all the things I'd planned in Cuba (more time for writing, meditation, friends and 15 year old rum) have gone out the window in a haze of tiredness and looming deadlines.

At least the sun is shining. And some of the pigeons on my balcony are not dead. I know there is a dead pigeon because I opened the door yesterday and saw it, beak down on my balcony. I assume it was dead, and not just fainty. And then these wee friggers of baby pigeons all start chirping up thinking I'm their ma or something and I've a gub full of tasty nutritious squirmy things to feed them. No. I'm the owner occupier and I have a hotline to Housing Executive who have a moral obligation to do stuff about vermin.

Even small cute chirpy feathery vermin.

I asked my tenant's advice on the pigeon problem. My tenant laughed and said that we should wait until our friend Aubrey comes up to visit tomorrow, and then we get him to dispose of the dead one.

What about the live one? Perhaps I should call the housing executive? I questioned. My tenant seemed to have a problem with the killing of the small cute chirpy feathery vermin. So I agreed to leave them (and the dead one) alone for now.

You see, I'm thinking it's like a little pigeon pie factory in my flat now. I provide them with shelter, they get food from the bigger birds, then I get to cook em just before they stretch their wings and fly my coop.

Tasty and Nutritious :)