URBAN SOCIETY

My apartment mate, seeing that I was finishing the last of the orange cream cookies, got up to get another bin from the stockpile. I indicated that she shouldn't, explaining that they would sit on the table next to my chair tempting me, winking at me and slyly whispering things like 'come here big boy' at odd hours, like the middle of the night." She sat down again commenting that I had a very strange relationship with food.

The good deed I performed while waiting for the bus is indicative of that, and shows that I am not the only one. Some people are far stranger. Our corvid fellow-Americans, as just one good example.

There were four crows (corvids) at the intersection. One of them kept endangering itself to peck at something in one of the lanes. The other three crows were obviously worried that something bad was going to happen to junior, who repeatedly fled from oncoming traffic barely in time, and voiced their distress. So at a convenient moment I strolled over and inspected it. Pigeon cadaver. I gently kicked it over to the curb and on to the sidewalk.
I do not want my corbid fellow Americans to snuff it at breakfast.

I myself would never be so passionate about a pigeon cadaver. Now, if it had been foie gras on fine china at a tablecloth restaurant, I would have fought off any and all oncoming traffic inside the dining room. Fiercely growled, even. It's mine!

Foie gras is my pigeon cadaver.

There are two raccoons in my neighborhood. It's been a few years. The last couple got old and slow, and one of them was killed crossing the street. So I'm glad to see that we finally have new resident raccoons. They were trying to break into an apartment building on the opposite side of the street. I feel that they should be welcomed and encouraged, and am thinking I should seed the neighborhood with left-over pizza.
C'mere, you little furry delinquents.


Lunch both yesterday and today was convenience store feasting. So I feel that I have a lot in common with the local corvids and raccoons. Or at least understand their tastes. Sometimes there are also coyotes here in the most populated part of San Francisco, probably drawn by small yippy pets or the critters that feed off of restaurant garbage. So maybe them too.
I should leave out the occasional porkchop, perhaps.



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