One of the things that continues to surprise me about this city is the abundance of bird feathers. Yep, you read that right: bird feathers. They are everywhere.
You'd think, yes, perhaps in a popular migration destination, like some western Canadian lake that fat, noisy geese call home, or maybe at a pristine beach on the west coast of Florida where you have to carefully guard your Cheez-Its from seagull theft (I swear, they really do say, "Mine! Mine! Mine!"). I have not seen the likes of bird feathers anywhere else in the world such as right here in downtown Los Angeles. There are a bajillion bird feathers.
I have a theory. It is this: pigeons love Carl, Jr.'s and del Taco. And since Los Angeles must surely be the highest density in the world of those fine food establishments, word is out among earth's pigeon populations: "Hey, guys, ya gotta move to L.A.! You won't believe the amazing food!"
Where there are pigeon feathers, there is also pigeon you-know-what. During one pretty scary bike ride, Matt and I hopped off our bikes to walk them through a heavily-trafficked tunnel. We sloshed through such thick pigeon guano, I seriously considering throwing away our shoes when we got home.
Echoes of Julie Andrews singing, "Feed the birds, tuppence a bag" do not at all romantize these chubby gluttons. In the aviary world, I think pigeons would ride the short bus. Which is also why, I suppose, we see a lot of pigeon carcasses (but not for long, as Los Angeles is also home to a significant coyote population -- but that's another blog).
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