Pigeon Feeding

I got some better shots than this today, but I chose this one because it captured a moment for me.

I took several shots of this man feeding pigeons in the Meat Packing District. This part of the Meat Packing District, with its loading docks, permeating stink, and old animal signage is one of the few parts of it that still actually feels like the Meat Packing District, the rest having been taken over by the kind of shops that look like they charge admission. The man did notice me taking pictures, but was not bothered and continued feeding the pigeons without self-consciousness.

After a few minutes, unexpectedly, the man leaned down and picked up a pigeon as calmly as if he was picking up a quarter. I was unsure of what he intended to do with the pigeon but my first thoughts were not good. He cradled it in his hand and looked as if he was trying to position the bird under his jacket. I thought perhaps the man was not stable, and that he might try to do something sinister, and that I would witness it, all the more bizarre because clearly the man knew I was there. As I imagined some terrible things, he walked over to a nearby van, still holding the pigeon, and got in the driver's seat. Well, now I was really confused.

I would have let it drop, but now I had all these photos of this man feeding the pigeons, and certainly wasn't going to use them if it turns out this man was some kind of weird pigeon molester. Given a second to think more rationally, this man did not actually seem to be crazy, perhaps just more in touch with the pigeon world than I am, and while I could imagine some weird things, the most reasonable and hopeful explanation I could think of was that the pigeon was injured. The window of the van was rolled down, which I guess also meant a window of opportunity, so I walked over and asked him if the bird was injured. This probably counts as the first time in my life in which I've hoped a bird was injured. He said yes, its legs were tied, and eagerly flipped the bird over to reveal its underside, which was a nearly indistinguishable mess of twine and pigeon leg. The pigeon did not struggle nor try to escape in his grasp. He said that he thought some people were trying to capture pigeons in the area. Presumably this was some kind of unsuccessful attempt. Relieved at this outcome, but still somewhat disturbed by the whole sequence of events, including my still lingering thoughts, I opted to not make further conversation.

It is a strange experience to be shooting a scene thinking you are capturing one thing, to discover in the blink of an eye that you may be shooting something else entirely.