they love a bit of it

The pigeons accumulating besides St. Margaret's Loch this morning were either being a little bit dopey in the early-morning chill or have discovered a new source of nutrition amongst the gravel they were pecking at. The only organic matter I could discern amongst it was swan shit but I suppose if you can live off three-week-old pizza from behind some bins you can live off semi-digested pondweed and uric acid.

There was some curious segregation going on round the loch; all the swans were a little bit along the path besides the trees where they were scratching themselves and shedding feathers. These pigeons were at the north-east corner, the seagulls were flying around above the water and the big duck/geese-type things were across the road on the grass in the park. Only when the oldwomen arrive at eleven will they all clamour together and forget their differences for the sake of some stale bread and mutterings.