This post appeared in a previous blog and is here for posterity’s sake.

Dear Pigeon Whisperer,
Sir or Madam, I do not know your name. In fact, I do not know you at all. What I do know, is that you are an active enabler of pigeon reproduction, which must stop.
Now.
I know you pass by the tree in the park with the hollowed out hole where pigeons roost. I know this, because you leave two slices of bread every morning, rain or shine like clockwork, on the cusp of the hollow. Every morning. And every morning, the Pigeons in the Hollow glare smugly at me, content at their gifted grain bounty.
I know that you think you are helping things, oh Pigeon Whisperer. You might think that feeding the Pigeons in the Hollow is a selfless act, or that there is nothing wrong with feeding the pigeons. You might think that feeding the Pigeons in the Hollow is a service to the city. While the City of New York does own the pigeons, I’m sure leaving two slices in a hollow every morning is not a standard operating procedure.
Oh Pigeon Whisperer, do you not know the result of your actions? Or do you not care?
Because of your comestible gift, you have become the vital link in high-speed pigeon reproduction. I’ve noticed, oh Pigeon Whisperer, that you do not tarry in the park after your early morning gifts have been deposited. You do not have the honor, nee, glory of experiencing the repercussions of your gift. Namely, the act of pigeon fornication which seemingly is scheduled, daily, during my jaunt through our park. You merely deposit and withdrawal, while I am left to view an Animal Planet x-rated show.
Because of your victual endowment to the Pigeons in the Hollow, every two months there are two new pigeons for you to feed, oh Pigeon Whisperer. So far, the Pigeons in the Hollow have produced six pigeon, dare I say, babies. While they are undoubtedly cute for a short time, the offspring eventually grow up to match their mice-with-wings parents. Cuteness since gone, replaced with droppings and flappings; ready to make more pigeons when the time is right.
Pigeon Whisperer, you are unleashing a horde of pigeons on Greenpoint. You must stop!
Because of your gifts of grain, you are accelerating pigeon birth rates, and it must end now. It must stop before the park is overrun (again) with pigeons. The world will survive without feeding the Pigeons in the Hollow; regardless to what you might think, Pigeonkind does not depend on your two-slice-a-day habit.
Instead of bequeathing a loaf of bread on the Pigeons in the Hollow, perhaps giving that same loaf to the homeless shelter would be an alternative? While you can’t crumble the bread into little pieces and have the homeless eat out of your hand, oh Pigeon Whisperer, I know you can adjust to your new found philanthropy.
Yours Truly,
the grubbykid