Chapter 15

The pigeon is the closest I’ve seen to a “group mind”, although a crowd of humans is very similar (especially when the humans are angry, ever hear of ‘mob rule’, they think with one mind). I think the pigeons survive, well, because they do think with one mind. If you’ve ever watched a group of pigeons fly, you’ll know what I mean – when they leap up into the air to fly, they ALL DO, and they swoop through the sky almost like a hook, a question mark, i.e., who’s going down [mob rule]. Once when I fed some pigeons [of course they were in a group] I noted that there were a couple of the pigeons would hang back, at the edges of the group [seagulls do this too]. When these couple of pigeons flew up into the air, the rest of the group would stop what they were doing and fly as well. Then the group would come back, as one again, and keep on accepting what I gave them. It was remarkable to witness.

Once, when I was in London, I had a one-legged pigeon perch on a fence in front of me. How do they know that I am a kind soul – they find me, these birds! They know. I nearly died, when I saw him. If I could have brought him home, I would have. He must have been desperate. I feed him. He flew up in the air to get my food. Sometimes, he was only a couple of inches from me. Once, he got off balance and landed on my hand. He got back to the rail, immediately after that… I think about that pigeon at times and my heartbreaks once more.

I have seen pigeons courting, especially when I lived in Boston. The male pigeon will stand tall, coo up a storm, and puff his chest out – the iridescent purple in his feathers (on his chest) would become so – obvious. Not to the female, though. She ducks her head down, looking for food and trying to dodge the advances of her amorous suitor.

A dear, dear, intimate friend once told me “the pigeons know.” He thought they were like judge and jury.

I like it when people put interesting thoughts in my head. Since then, when I look up to the edges of the roofs, which line Main Street, I watch the line of pigeons perched on the edges of these roofs. I watch them watching us humans walk on by. I find myself thinking, “The pigeons know.” I feel like I’m on trial then – and feel a pleasurable, eerie chill.

The pigeons do know – just watch them. They know.

Maybe some day, they’ll tell us.