Just like George Costanza, I’ve got a bone to pick with the pigeons. My daily commute takes me through Dupont Circle, and every morning, the rats of the sky dive and soar much too close for my comfort as they bathe on the perch of the fountain. The unpredictability of their movements, combined with the fact that I’ve seen The Birds far too many times, provides just the right amount of jolt before I get to my desk and the large coffee mug which sits upon it.

But do I ever act out against the pigeons? No. Why? Because maybe one of them has a friend who can mobilize a flock of others; and then, one day, I’ll see a scene like this — ominously captured by katyray — moving rapidly towards me as I step outside my door.