I've now rang up a pest control company and tried to explain to the the position of my pigeon problem. I told the man on the phone, the pigeons are under they tiles. He didn't seem to understand. It was like I was talking to someone who would of been a post-operative candidate for a lobotomy. He asked if there was access to the loft, I said yes, I explained Mr Travolta Pigeon's harem was under the roof tiles, and he asked if the whole roof was being replaced. I could of put my hands around his neck strangled and carried on strangling him, though I'm sure he would of still not understood. Force would not of enlightened his I.Q. even if it would of made me feel better.
I'm getting a little attached to my pigeons now. The last time I threw an old plastic plant pot up in the air at about 6:45 a.m. it scared them. Then I saw with new eyes how a flock flew around the houses in a big circle. They were beautiful. I don't want them to be harmed. I just want them out of the roof. A little like when Sparkling Eyes went on about her giant garden slugs which she'd called Bert and Ethel. She'd got attached to them. But there's a difference. Slugs aren't quite as big as pigeons and are easier to deter. Coffee works wonders.
I caught the news when in from the Fish Factory. Zimbabwe was a main item. Once called the 'bread basket of Africa' it is now a poverty stricken country where a loaf of bread costs a week's wages. Mugabe is a dictator of the worst kind, because his dictatorship is under the guise of democracy. Where in fact there is no democracy. People are tortured if they don't vote for him. He even has his own elite younger members called the 'Green Shirts.' They remind me of the Hitler youth. Anyone who does not vote Mugabe in the next elections will be killed, if not by his army then by the Green Shirts. He is without doubt a homicidal, megalomaniac, starving his own kind. If we consider there to be no God in this world, such a crime becomes worse still. Because the poor, the suffering of this world find solace in their belief. If there is no God, then they would have their fears and the choice of doing something and dying because they acted, or dying as a victim. But this is easy for me to say, I don't live there, I don't have their suffering.
In 10, 20 or 30 years from now, I wonder if my nephews and nieces will remember me? Of any influence I may of had in their growing up. Whether I was a stable individual in their life, someone who was around while they were young, when they needed it. Someone who helped when he could. And I hope made them laugh. I can't help it if my words are misinterpreted, but it's the view of the reader and this is what I meant in my last blog. Unfortunatelyl reading a passage can be interpretted in different ways. Wherever I am, in 10, 20 or 30 years time, I hope they smile and remember moments with me in affection.
I think I'll check up on studies by Thorndike, he trained pigeons to do some pretty complex tasks. Like getting out of cages by a series of levers, or receiving pigeon food. Psychologists in those days were called behaviourists. I could train my elite squadron of pigeons (Mr Travolta Pigeon permitting) to visit Zimbabwe and crap endless tons of pigeon excrement on Mugabe. Or better give them bandannas and they could become suicide pigeons, for the good of Africa, the one mission, take out Mugabe.
Unfortunately my humour button doesn't seem to work at the moment. If I were a pigeon, now that would be a different story.
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