Adventures in Urban Pigeon Hunting

A while back, my roommate Yorick (name changed to protect said roommate from legal action) bought a blow gun so he could take out the pigeons that so persistently poop on our doorstep and mailbox. To most this may seem like an extreme reaction to a minor problem, and it probably is. But I'm not here to criticize.

So check this out:


This, friends, is a pigeon with a dart in its neck. As if that wasn't already pretty obvious.

So in the course of Yorick's hunting, he's nailed many-a-pigeon in the neck, but he's only had one confirmed kill. Most of the time he hits them and they just fly off, presumably to die elsewhere. Apparently, though, they never die and end up flying around with these darts stuck in 'em like nothing ever happened.

We all knew pigeons were stupid. But stupid enough to go on living and pooping like normal despite the unrelenting presence of a dart in the neck? That's beyond what any of us could have hoped or dreamed.

The greatest insult of all? This pigeon is going to poop on our doorstep so much more now. Or maybe the greatest insult will be when one of these pigeon shows up at the police station and "Yorick" ends up getting arrested after a lengthy sting operation. In either case, it would have been much more efficient to use a bazooka.