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Pigeons have this deep philosophical look, like they've been pondering the meaning of life. I bet if you asked a pigeon for its life advice, it would say something profound like, "Always look both ways before crossing the street, and never trust a seagull." And have you noticed they're always in a hurry? Like, where are they going? They don't have jobs or appointments. I imagine one pigeon saying to another, "I've got a meeting at the park. Gotta discuss seed investments and the rising cost of breadcrumbs."
But here's the real question: do pigeons have regrets? Like, do they ever think, "I should have taken that left turn at the park instead of right. Maybe then I wouldn't be stuck dealing with this human trying to take a selfie with me." Food for thought, or should I say, breadcrumbs for thought?
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You ever notice how pigeons just strut around like they own the place? I mean, they act like they're on a catwalk, not a sidewalk. I tried to shoo one away the other day, and it looked at me like, "Excuse me, I'm a pigeon, I have places to be." I'm like, "Dude, you're a pigeon. Your schedule revolves around scavenging for french fries and dodging traffic. Calm down." But you've got to admire their confidence, right? They waddle around with their chest puffed out like they're the kings of the urban jungle. And have you seen them in a group? It's like they're having a secret pigeon meeting. I'm convinced they're plotting something. I overheard one say, "Let's aim for the statues today, team. Humans love statues."
I tried to befriend a pigeon once. I tossed it a piece of bread, thinking we could share a moment. Instead, it gave me this look like, "Is this gluten-free?" I'm just trying to be kind, and the pigeon's out here judging my dietary choices. Who knew birds could be so bougie?
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Have you ever witnessed a pigeon romance? It's like watching a romantic comedy, but with more feathers and less Hugh Grant. There's this elaborate dance they do, cooing sweet nothings to each other. It's adorable until you realize they're standing on top of a trash can. And have you heard a pigeon coo? It's supposed to be this romantic sound, but it sounds more like a distant ambulance siren trying to hit a high note. I'm waiting for the day they release a pigeon R&B album. "Feathers in the Wind," dropping soon.
But seriously, pigeons are committed to their relationships. They build nests together in the most inconvenient places, like your window sill. You wake up to cooing and feathers, and you're like, "Congratulations, lovebirds. Now get a room that's not mine!
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You ever walk down the street, and a pigeon just stares at you? It's unnerving. You start questioning your life choices like, "Is there something on my face? Did I forget to zip up my pants?" I swear, pigeons are the judgmental aunts of the bird world. And why do they always look like they know a secret? Like, they've got insider information on the bird gossip network. I imagine one pigeon saying to another, "Hey, Kevin, did you hear about the robin scandal? Feathers are ruffled, my friend."
I think we should hire pigeons as private investigators. They're always watching and seem to know everyone's business. Imagine a detective pigeon in a trench coat, interrogating the sparrows for information. "Tweet once for yes, twice for no.
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