I've been discovering the neighboring arrondissements to my school. Since the temperatures have cooled down, I've taken to promenading in the 6th and 5th. A day ago, I sat in the place at St. Sulpice and watched the few tourists and the pigeons.
Its a huge square with a magnificant fountain and plenty of benches and too many pigeons. They all waddle over to a suspect and eyeball their lunch with those beady eyes. One woman tossed the rest of her sandwich over her sholder and they all blew in a torrent to it and devoured it. The birds came from every direction. Then another person across the place dropped their sandwich causing a rucus to ensue. Every bird seemed to have seen it and they flew like a herd of turkeys toward the opposite corner of the place. My hair blew with the rush of their wings and I watched as a unsupspecting Parisien got hit in the face by one of the flying missiles. The bird did a few corkscrew flips before it regained its equilibrium. The young man was smiling and laughing as was I.

Pigeons are one of the ugliest birds known to mankind. These grey, homely creatures in the late summer waddle along until they find a good spot on the cement or perch themselves on unknowning cement and bronze statues, fluff up their weathered feathers, even pick at them with their sharp lips. Then they pretend to sleep, feathers sticking up like Alfalfa's hair. Every once in awhile, a jerk can be spotted- as if he had something more than all his forelorn family, he'll dominate, attack and peck the others who may or may not have both claws. That's my analysis of parisien pigeons.