Baby pigeons are hysterical. Not in the ‘haha’ funny way, although there’s some of that, too. In the squeaking, flapping, trying to climb all over you way, “I’m going to die if you don’t feed me” way. Opening the door to the atrium is a little like being in “The Birds” movie. Even though it’s fixated on me as a food source, I’m hoping it will grow up and leave me as most babies leave their parents. Fingers crossed. The gape is going away and there are pinfeathers around its beak and under its wings.
The other day when we were all out on the patio it flew to the back of my chair, then scrambled around to perch on my knee. From there it watched the doves on the bird feeder coming and going.