The Birdman

Disclaimer: I really don’t like pigeons. As in, I fully agree with anyone else who considers them flying rats.

However, I have a bird lover in my midst who does loves them all, even the ones Mama considers gross and vermin-like. He does not discriminate.

A couple of days ago, after hours of playing in the Discovery Museum, the boys and I had a snack outside in the park in a shady spot. Someone accidentally dropped a bit of pretzel on the ground and, of course, a few pigeons snapped them up.

That was all it took for Carter to decide he had to provide lunch to the greater bird population of Guadalupe Park.

He then proceeded to name them all. The names he chose were surprising to me: Grace, Bob, Judy, Red Eyes, Freckles, Mary, Dude… I can’t remember them all, and I am sure he can’t either. But really, Judy?? I don’t know a single woman under 55 named Judy. I guess that makes it ripe for a comeback. :)

We didn’t manage to eat many of the pretzels ourselves, but it was a fair cost to Carter. (He also discovered pigeons won’t eat string cheese or crunchy green beans but they will check over and over to make sure a nasty cigarette butt is not food. Bird brains…)