Dateline, Evanston, Illinois
The next time you see pigeons hustling around looking for scraps, don’t snarl at them for getting in your way. Take a moment to look at their feet. I am here visiting my in-laws, Jeffrey Bushor and Mary Griswold, the latter of whom once took part, in nearby Chicago, in a mission of mercy toward pigeons.
An occupational hazard of urban pigeons, it seems, is loss of toes. Pigeons are on their feet a lot. They get trash tangled around their ankles. Circulation is cut off. And a hard-scrabble bird’s life becomes even harder.
Most people, I think it is safe to say, overlook this problem. Not the group that Mary went out with. I don’t know whether this group had an organizational name. They did have a well-defined mission:
Attract pigeons, by scattering birdseed. Grab pigeons, as unrufflingly as possible. Slide tube socks over the pigeons’ heads, to reassure them. Then use fingernail scissors to cut away the foot-threatening dreck. Remove tube socks. Watch pigeons scuttle away somewhat relieved, if not exactly “free as birds.” Mary, who has moved on to larger causes, says you’d be surprised how few toes some pigeons are down to.
What brought me to nearby Chicago was “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me,” the comical National Public Radio news show on which I sometimes appear as a panelist. Along with host Peter Sagal, moderator Bill Kurtis and fellow panelists Helen Hong and Adam Burke, I had a good time joking about affairs of the day, because otherwise, what are you doing to do?
As usual, I was unable to use any of the spontaneous witticisms I was fully prepared to toss off. Somehow Peter never asked about the deaths of Jean-Luc Godard and Ken Starr, so I had no grounds for cracking:
“Who ever thought those two would go out together! Although their names do rhyme.”
Nor did Peter ask, “What were mourners of Queen Elizabeth urged not to leave on the royal parks, where people were leaving thousands of remembrances?” So I was unable to come up with the right answer:
“Paddingtons and marmalade. Which would have been a good name for a band during a certain bygone period of British rock and roll.”
There were other lines I was all geared up to ad lib, but I’m afraid they are lost to history. You know the expression “esprit d’escalier,” how you think of clever things you should have said at a party, only not until you’re on the stairs, on your way out? Why is there no expression for thinking of bon mots in plenty of time, only nobody gives you an opening?
Like that’s a big problem. I don’t know why I brought it up. I could have gone out on the heartening news that there are people in this world who are doing something about pigeons’ toes. Oh, wait, pigeon-toed — there must be a joke in there somewhere. Pigeon walks into a podiatrist’s office . . .
One More Limerick in Our Series of Them
Dedicated to the Question, What Is Wrong
With Men?
An off-putting fellow named Todd
Goes out of his way to be … odd.
Not crazy or strange,
That’s out of his range,
Just two layers shy of a wad.