Classy bird

When we lived in cities, the pigeons were truly flying rats and not pleasant to look upon, often missing toes, making me wince in sympathy. Plus their plumage ("Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, isn't it, eh? Beautiful plumage!" [/Monty Python]) has a dullish metallic shine to match the dullish metallic city.

We've gradually moved out into more & more rural areas, more by accident than design, and while pigeons feature largely in ornithological observation, they seem a better class of bird.

In our last house, it was wood-pigeons hanging around outside, coo-cooing and flapping about (as you do when you're a pigeon). Now they were altogether more plumptious, scrumptious and looked pretty darned edible. You wouldn't eat a city pigeon, would you? Well, I wouldn't. They'd taste of petrol and MacDonalds.

Now we have collared doves, which must surely be a step up again. Perhaps even going beyond looking rather like dinner to looking almost too good to eat.


What's this obsession with eating pigeons, you may be wondering?

It's past lunch.